John and Delenn in Lost and Found
by NWHS
Summary: This is a sequel to Mine Until Tomorrow. It's seven years after John Sheridan's death and Delenn is lonely and alone. But if one Warrior Caste Minbari has his way, she won't be for long. Check out the musical version and the URL to hear each song.
1. Chapter 1: Compromise

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Delenn of Mir and John Sheridan**

**Author: NWHS**

**Lost and Found**

**Chapter 1: Compromise**

"Why are you still here?"

"I'm not going. I've changed my mind, Susan."

"You can't just change your mind like that, Delenn," Susan Ivanova said, joining Delenn on the single balcony bench, Delenn feeling no need to add more. She didn't want visitors, not here, not even Susan. It was their special place, her and John's, where for one fleeting moment of each day, he reached out to her and she was no longer alone, no longer lonely.

But Delenn didn't notice Susan join her, too busy watching the setting sun, mind in the past.

"We've gone over this before. You agreed, remember?"

Delenn looked at her hand and the diamond ring that still sparkled upon her finger.

"I'm not ready, Susan. I should've never allowed you to talk me into it."

"Not ready?" Susan turned to her right to face Delenn, taking her hand in her own. She ran a finger over the wedding ring and spoke gently.

"It's been seven years, Delenn."

"I know how long it's been. I don't need you to remind me." Her voice was hard and she tried to free her hand from her friend's grip, but Susan was having none of it.

"You know what I mean and stop tugging like that before you bruise my pike hand. You may be part Human but you still have much of the strength of a full Minbari."

"Then release my hand and leave. I didn't request a meeting with the Anla'Shok Na. Go, Ranger One, and I'll see you tomorrow for our usual morning debrief."

Susan didn't release Delenn's hand which frustrated her even more. Delenn knew perfectly well Susan knew she would never hurt her just to have her way. The woman was as stubborn and persistent as ever, making her an excellent Ranger One, but a most annoying friend.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Delenn. I don't even know why you try. You shut me and David out when John first died, I accepted it then, but I won't accept it now. Hell, I should've never left you alone then. Except for Alliance business, you became a near recluse."

"Minbari must observe a year of mourning, Susan. You know that."

"I do, but you, my friend, observed two years of mourning. And would have gone on, for God knows how long, if David didn't get you to snap out of it."

"Yes, that son of mine thinks he's my father instead of my son."

"He loves you, Delenn, and only wants to see you happy."

"I am happy, can't you tell. I'm boiling over with happiness and mirth," Delenn said, standing, forcing Susan to release her grip.

She walked to the edge of the balcony and looked out into the graying sky. Night was approaching, as was a commitment she made a month ago. A commitment she now regretted, a commitment Susan had talked her into.

Delenn placed her hands on the cool railing, her shoulders and back perfectly erect, rigid. Was she happy? She'd used the word but it was mocking, meant to push and annoy Susan. But Delenn knew Susan too well. They both knew each other too well for this conversation to end without some concession being made on both their parts.

Delenn felt Susan's presence next to her. "He wants his mother back," she said, reaching for Delenn's hand again. But this time, she simply placed hers overtop of it, rubbing a soothing finger across her tense knuckles.

"I've been right here. I've always been here when David needed me, Susan, and I always will. The two of you are all I have left, all I care about."

She had spoken the truth but only a partial one, Delenn understanding the subtext of Susan's words.

"You're very good at that," Susan said.

Delenn didn't bother asking the expected follow-up question of 'Good at what?' She didn't want to know or hear but, of course, Susan, being Susan, would continue whether Delenn gave her an opening or not.

"John warned me that last night. Explained a few things I needed to know if I was to help you get past his death and serve as Ranger One to your President."

"I don't want to hear it, Susan."

"Too bad, you're gonna hear it anyway. You have a way of neatly sidestepping questions or issues you don't wish to directly address. Hell, all Minbari do, I suppose. You tend to only say as much as is required and nothing more. And you have an amazing knack of appearing to appease one while having offered very little, looking past the current predicament and planning long term. That's what made you a great Entil'Zha and an even better President. Big shoes to fill, I assure you."

"Make your point, Susan."

She already had but Delenn wasn't in a conciliatory mood.

"John had more than twenty years to figure you out and only one night to bring me up to speed; otherwise, you would've had my mind spinning, burying me in partial truths, Minbari logic, and tons of distracting paperwork, missions, and alien rituals."

"I'm pleased you feel that John adequately prepped you for the job as my babysitter," she said, her voice soft and tart.

"Babysitter, bodyguard, friend, Delenn, whatever you require, I'm here for you, you know that."

Delenn turned to Susan, her face an emotionless mask, cracking around the edges, threatening to break if Susan kept pushing.

"You have me and David, Delenn. You were right there. But you also have yourself. And it's high time you started taking care of yourself, started living beyond us, beyond the Alliance, beyond . . ."

Susan cut her sentence short, but she needn't have, for Delenn knew the rest.

"Beyond John," Delenn finished.

"Yes, beyond Sheridan. He wouldn't want you to be alone forever."

He had told her that, many times in fact, before he went beyond the veil. But Delenn knew he was only saying those words for her benefit, he didn't truly believe them. His heart wasn't in it, hollow, empty words that mean nothing to a Minbari. And she had told him she wanted no one else. She meant it, then and now.

Susan studied Delenn, her eyes soft but firm.

"If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for David. He may be a grown man but he still needs his mother. In some ways, when John went off on that White Star to die, David lost him and a part of you as well. It's not fair, Delenn, and you know it."

Susan didn't learn that from John, Delenn thought, for he would never go for her jugular like that. Yes, a well trained Russian dagger to her heart—effective and bloodless. Curse the woman.

"You're no better, Susan. You have no right to push this on me. You've never gotten over Marcus's death, a man who loved you but whose love you didn't acknowledge until his death. And yet you expect me to turn my back on twenty years of memories and simply move forward as if they . . . he never existed."

The words were harsh, deliberately so, but quite true, Delenn's last defense.

Susan stiffened, her hands balling into fists, a faraway look appearing and then quickly disappearing.

"You're one hell of an opponent, Delenn, and that almost worked. But my being a spinster has nothing to do with this, although I'm sure you'd love to turn the tables, put me on the defensive."

"We're not opponents, Susan, we're friends. In fact, since John's death you've become my best friend. I don't know what I would do without you."

Truth but also tactic and as soon as Delenn saw Susan's smiling eyes she knew her friend knew it as well. What had John told her? Curse them both.

"You know we can continue this duel until we both grow grayer and older or come to a compromise."

"Compromise?" Delenn asked. "I don't trust any compromise that's preceded by that smile of yours, Susan. You may know me, but I know you equally as well."

"So you do," she conceded and then regarded Delenn with a smile of warmth and infinite respect.

"Let's hear it, Susan, before you threaten to call my son and have him bestow one of his famous David Sheridan lectures, sounding too much like his father for me to argue."

Susan laughed and admitted, "I was saving that gem as my last ditch effort to get you to see things my way. And God knows, David's got the Sheridan gift for long winded, over the top proclamations. Good thing he's good with the denn'bok; otherwise, I don't think he would've survived Ranger training."

"True," Delenn said, allowing for a weary smile. "Now, about this compromise of yours, what does it entail?"

Susan took a slow breath before she next spoke. "If you follow through on tonight's commitment, regardless of the outcome, I'll back off and ask David to do the same."

"What's the catch?"

Another slow breath. "You must give me your word you'll not try to sabotage the damn thing. You must go into it with sincerity and an open mind. Can you give me your word, Delenn?"

Delenn didn't want to give Susan her word, for that was how she got herself in this mess. Delenn actually had no intention of not going because she had indeed made a pledge. In spite of that pledge, she also had absolutely no intention of performing the ritual in good faith.

"I'll go, that should be enough for you."

"Well, it isn't. I need a vow from you, Delenn. I've never known you to go back on a vow, and I don't think you would, even to spite me."

"Did John tell you that about me?"

"He did, but I already knew that myself," she said with a smug wave of her hand.

Delenn returned to the bench and took a seat, the sun having fully disappeared in the night sky, a chill in the air and her heart.

"Fine," she said coldly, "you have it and I have yours. When I return here tomorrow, I'll be free of the lot of you and we'll never speak of this again."

Susan took an audible sigh of relief. "You don't make my job easy, Delenn, I can tell you that."

"Easy, Susan, you have no idea. I just agreed to betray my marriage vows, my husband, my beating heart."

She looked at her friend then but knew she could never understand. No one understood, not even David.

Susan took a step toward Delenn but Delenn stilled her with one raised hand. "Go now, Susan. I think you've done enough for one evening. I'll see you tomorrow."

"But—'' Susan started.

"I'll be fine, just go. I need to meditate before I leave and I don't need you hovering about with those guilty eyes of yours."

Susan reluctantly moved to the balcony doors. "I'll have a transport sent for you with two Rangers. They'll take you there and wait until you're ready to depart the following morning or earlier if it isn't going well."

Delenn absently nodded, mind no longer on Susan but the pending ritual. She heard the balcony door open and close a minute later and she was alone. So utterly alone, and she cried, the darkness unable to absorb her pain.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's Note:** Okay, this story just popped into my mind and wouldn't let me rest until I gave some form to it. It's still a mental work in progress and hopefully the end result will please you and me. If you think you know where I'm going with this, keep it to yourself, and let me know at the end if you were right.


	2. Chapter 2: Truth

**Chapter 2: Truth**

**Part 1**

Delenn sat in the transport, hands clasped firmly in her lap, back straight against the cushioned upholstery, face grim, and heart heavy. She'd arrived nearly thirty minutes ago, and in spite of two gentle attempts by her driver to escort her inside, she remained still and utterly silent in the backseat.

She'd made Susan a promise and while her body was committed to fulfilling said promise, it simply wasn't enough to get the mind to obey. When the mind refused, the body was forced to listen. And right now, Delenn's mind was on strike, the body compelled to negotiate a new contractual agreement.

Delenn closed her eyes, envisioning opening the door to the transport and getting out. The image was clear and vivid in her mind, her movements assured and dignified. Yet, she remained unmoved, feeling neither assured nor dignified. More like a scared, petulant child. She was being ridiculous, and she knew it.

_One night, Delenn. Just one night and it will all be over in the morning. If you don't, Susan will haunt your waking hours until one of us is forced to kill the other. _

Delenn sighed, resigned to her eight-hour fate. She peered out of the window and into the darkness. A two-story structure shaped much like an Egyptian pyramid with multi-colored crystals and windows caught her eye. The home was breathtaking in its ancient Minbar design and confluence of bright colors that, Delenn speculated, created dancing lights in the sky when the sun rose from the east.

_Odd_, she thought. It wasn't what she had expected, perhaps something darker, rougher. It didn't matter really, she decided. It wasn't a place she intended to get to know well. Tonight would be her first and last visit. What did it matter that the home reminded her too much of a childhood dream? The type of dream that only children could imagine, places that held all their light, hope, and goodness. Naïve, short-lived thoughts the world quickly disabused them of lest they find themselves victims to the ugly truth. Not all was light, not all was black, and even the gray could hold peril, heartbreak, loneliness.

Delenn gestured to her driver and once instructed, the Ranger moved quickly, opening the door, and bestowing a respectful bow before helping her out of the transport. Delenn took his hand and allowed him to help her down. She straightened her dress, looked at the footpath with solemn eyes, and proceeded to walk, two Rangers flanking her, matching her stride for stride.

**Part 2**

"You've been quiet this evening. Did the meal not suit you . . . or perhaps it's the company?"

Delenn lifted her head and blinked, her wandering mind suddenly pulled back to the current dimension, her host's words breaking through the fog of time and space.

"I apologize, Chimir," she said, feeling awkward and self-conscious. "The meal was very nice as is the company."

He gave her a quiet disbelieving look but didn't challenge the depth of the truth of her words. Chimir was a wise man.

"If this isn't a good time, we can reschedule," he politely offered, making Delenn feel even worse. She had already rescheduled, three times in fact.

"That won't be necessary. I've made arrangements and I'm already here."

"And your Rangers? Will they stand guard the entire night? Make sure I'm the perfect host?"

Chimir's eyes laughed, although his mouth did not. Delenn gave him a thoughtful look, his deep-set gray eyes shining with intelligence and warmth. And with humbling honor, the mind-body contract was solidified. She'd not only given Susan her word, but Chimir didn't deserve anything less than complete honesty. He was an upstanding member of the Warrior Caste, respected by most, and feared by many. He was a political ally with Grey Council aspirations but also her friend, a cousin of Neroon.

"They will stay, of course, not because I fear a lapse in your honor, but because their duty will allow nothing less."

She smiled at him then, a genuine smile and Chimir visibly relaxed.

They lapsed into a comfortable conversation, centering around Minbari politics and Alliance business, steering clear of the reason for her visit. It was nice, Delenn decided, to have a quiet night out with an old friend. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost forget the weighty expectation of the evening.

It was so different from the first time. But then again, she reminded herself, Chimir was a very different man. He was Minbari and he understood the ritual; whereas, John did not. And she didn't know if that would make things easier or harder for her. She prayed for easier but a deeper, more intuitive part of her knew it would be harder.

They moved from the small dining area to the spacious living room, Chimir leading the way, taking obvious effort to avoid invading Delenn's space. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and an intensely designed bonecrest with high, brutal edges and deep ridges that reminded Delenn of a beautiful but dangerous rising tide. His skin was paler than her own and his gray eyes held the wisdom of his years and rank. By Minbari standards, he was a handsome man in both character and form. While Delenn had no interest in becoming his mate, even she couldn't deny what a man like him could bring to the life of a Minbari female. And not for the first time, she wondered why Chimir had never bonded himself to another.

They sat on the couch, Chimir waiting for Delenn to sit before he decided upon his own spot. The spot being two seat cushion lengths away. Looking at the intentional seating, a twinge of guilt started to emerge within Delenn.

"You need not sit so far away, Chimir. If I recall, we are friends and have shared a meal and conversation before."

"This isn't the same and we both know it." His deep voice held a harsh edge of anger. But the anger was nothing more than a mask for his real emotion-fear. The enemy of every Warrior castemen.

"I know it's not the same, but that doesn't mean we can't . . ." She couldn't think of the proper word. She wouldn't lie to him but she didn't want to lead him on either.

"I don't want you here if you don't wish to be," he said, freeing her from the awkward pause. "Besides, this isn't exactly a ritual of the Warrior Caste. We don't enjoy such displays. It puts one in a weak position, this sleep watching of the Religious Caste. It's not natural. A man should win the woman by strength and courage not by a mindless face the woman sees while he sleeps."

Delenn almost laughed but knew better than to do so. Chimir's pride was on the line. In her own angst, she'd forgotten about his own. For him, this ritual was just as foreign to Chimir as it had been for John. Something about the similarity warmed and frightened her heart.

"I never said I didn't wish to be here, Chimir," she said. Truth.

He gave her a knowing look and she couldn't help but smile.

"No you didn't _say_ that, Delenn, but then again, you wouldn't. You have too much sensitivity to deliberately harm one you considered a friend."

His insightful and gentle words shocked her. Tonight she'd witnessed a different side of Chimir, a softer, kinder side, a side that was less warrior and more man. If she had seen this side all those years ago, perhaps . . . but not now. She didn't want to know this side of him, the vulnerable, insecure man protected by the warrior's roughened shell. But she wasn't going to have this conversation with him, no matter how hard he stared or patiently he waited.

"So, you would rather engage in a duel and possibly be harmed than allow me to watch you sleep?" she said instead.

Chimir paused, giving Delenn his best intimidating glare, arms folded across his chest, chin up and head high. He waited and so did she. He waited some more and so did she. He huffed with impatience and she said nothing and smiled.

He frowned and finally said with indignation, "I would not be harmed and if I was, then I wouldn't deserve you. A warrior must be able to protect his mate, his family." His tone softened, as did his body, and he moved one cushion length closer. "I would protect you, Delenn. You know I would, you only need to trust me, open yourself up to the possibility of not living the remainder of your life alone."

Delenn dropped her eyes, unable to look within his and see the depth of emotion there. She wasn't ready for this. She had known it in her heart. Chimir was a special man who deserved a mate who would love and appreciate his strength, his dedication and kindness.

John had been right. All those years ago, he'd known when she did not. Even after what he'd told her about overhearing Chimir ask her uncle if he thought she would take another mate once John died, she still couldn't fathom Chimir's desire to bond with her. In fact, she found it difficult to believe that any Minbari would desire such a union. After her transformation, she was scorned and ridiculed, judged by some to be no longer truly Minbari for she no longer looked as one. Her soul may not have changed but all they could see had. And what they saw disturbed, if not, disgusted them. Could so much have changed in three decades? If she was to believe Chimir, it had. If she was to believe Susan, there were other Minbari and Human males who would reveal themselves to her if she took the time to 'pull her head out of the God damn sand and stop acting like Katherina.' Delenn had no idea who Katherina, William Shakespeare or the shrew were, but she understood Susan's point clear enough. It was the same point John had made, the one she ignored then and was trying desperately to ignore now.

"Perhaps you should rest now, Chimir. It's been a long, tiring day, and I have an equally long night of watching ahead of me." She stood and smiled down at him, hoping he would push no further.

He didn't. He stood, not returning her smile, but frowning neither. Clearly, he'd also made a mind-body contract, resigned to allow the night to play out as the universe intended.

"Come, Delenn," he said, "let me show you to my room so you can begin the watching. I think we've talked enough for one night. Perhaps, if my true face is pleasing to you, we'll have another dinner, more conversation, and another night of watching."

He was still hopeful and the thought of such blind faith made her heart sink. He was, after all, a warrior. Did she really think he would crumble and surrender so easily? She did not. But she wished he would, for the alternative would be far worse for them both.

**Part 3**

Two hours had passed and Chimir slept soundly, the large, airy room lit by flickering white candles. Two hours had passed and Delenn hadn't taken one thorough look in the sleeping man's direction.

Chimir pulled a chair from his study and placed it beside the slanted bed and Delenn had sat in the chair until Chimir's eyes closed. Soon after, she'd risen and found a spot in front of his bay window. She stared off into the darkness, wanting nothing more than to join it. She had told Susan she was happy, but it was yet another partial truth. Her life had become full of partial truths and she didn't know how to untangle the web that was slowly, meticulously strangling her.

It had been seven years since John had died. Yet, to Delenn, it felt like only seven days. Sometimes, she would rush home with exciting news, run into the bedroom, open her mouth to call for him, and realize she was all alone. She would simply forget. How could she forget? Her heart still ached at the thought of her dead husband, the other half of her soul and she wanted to cry for her loss and her present and future selves. Bonding with Chimir or another wasn't the answer. But damn if she knew what was. That dangerous web was getting thicker, stickier, and harder to fight.

Delenn turned away from her morbid thoughts and back to the man she'd promised to watch. She would look upon his true face, although she knew what she would see. And she also knew it would not matter, for it wasn't the face she wanted . . . needed to see.

She moved to the right side of his bed and looked down at him. His black sleep robe flowed from his neck to his calves, the bedclothes still folded neatly on the empty side of the bed, the warm summer night making it unnecessary for covering. He was indeed handsome, Delenn already knew, in the classical warrior sense, but that wasn't his most striking feature. That wasn't his true face. Physical appeal and other such subjective notions could never be one's true face.

Delenn saddled closer, taking him all in, her eyes focused, discerning. What she saw surprised her, his true face different from what she'd remembered. Unconsciously, she leaned over and reached for him, her right hand moving to his cheek, and then she stopped. Her hand yielded in midair and she was frozen, unable to move or think. What had she been about to do? Why was she so close to him?

Chimir's eyes flew open then and they met hers and time seemed to slow, shallow breaths stretching between them, invisible bands flowing outward. One of his hands reached for her stalled one and brought it to his chest, placing it over his throbbing heart, the bands coiling itself around her wrist, holding her in place. His other hand slowly moved to her hair, then her scalp, and then the nape of her neck. He caressed the soft curls there, his gently probing fingers knocking on doors Delenn had long since boarded up and forgotten about.

"I always wanted to touch this Human hair of yours, Delenn," Chimir whispered, his mouth, his masculine scent far too close for Delenn to think straight and the bands tightened.

_Move_, she told her legs. Nothing. _For Valen's sake, move_. Nothing. Apparently, the contract was no longer in effect, her body making the decisions, forcing the mind to comply.

"I can see the appeal," he said, twining his hand into her locks. You're an incredible woman, Delenn, and I would slay a thousand Shadows to reach your heart. But I cannot challenge or defeat an enemy that is already dead. I cannot fight for a heart that doesn't want to be won."

Delenn opened her mouth to speak, but Chimir closed the distance between them, taking her mouth into his, pulling her to him. His kiss was warm and sweet and filled with forced control, his possessiveness and need for her bubbling so close to the surface she could feel his lips tremble from the effort.

And while this man gave of himself to her, shed his shield for her, and willed her to do the same to him, all Delenn could think about and feel was a sense of betrayal. And it took all of her self-control not to wrench her mouth from his and run from the room in tears, suddenly grateful that Minbari didn't tongue kiss. That level of intimacy would undo her completely, his vulnerable lips and words already having done most of the job.

When she thought she could stand no more, it was over. Just like that, it was over. No warmth, no tension, no passion, no guilt, nothing but a bitter cold in the pit of her stomach remained. But she could move now and she did so, quickly straightening and walking to the other side of the bed and next to the chair.

"I'd forgotten what it felt like to kiss you. It's been a long time," he said. "A very long time," he repeated wistfully.

Delenn could feel Chimir's eyes and words track her movement, the taste of him still on her lips. Delenn sat and Chimir leaned back onto the bed, his eyes still on her.

"Am I being a fool, Delenn, to think you could ever care for me the way you once did? Some of my clan say that I am, that you are still too connected to Sheridan to even consider another. But I thought . . . I hoped . . . I think . . ."

He stopped in obvious frustration, balling his hands into fists, looking more vulnerable than Delenn had ever seen him.

"Would you like for me to leave?" Delenn asked, her voice low, fragile.

Chimir cast his eyes upward when he spoke. "I would not like for you to leave. In fact, I would like to keep you here forever as my mate, my wife. But I think you should leave. What I offer, you cannot bring yourself to take, and what you're willing to give is less than I'm willing to settle for."

With barely repressed tears, Delenn stood, and walked around the bed and to the bedroom door. She opened it, took one-step into the hallway and said, "I'm truly sorry, Chimir. I wish I could be the woman you want me to be."

She took another step and started to close the door behind her when a voice wafted through the debilitating darkness. "You are the woman I want you to be, Delenn. The problem is that I'm not the man you want me to be."

She closed the door then, the truth of his words scorching her ears, her heart, her very incomplete soul. And tears threatened to come, to overwhelm her, but she held them, knowing when they came, no one but Valen or John himself could stop the flood.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3: Memories

**Chapter 3: Memories**

**Part 1**

_Delenn walked briskly down the corridor, her white robe flowing about her, covering her purpose with its soft delicate folds. She reached the end of the corridor, looked behind her and to her left. Satisfied, she made a sharp right, her footsteps undetectable, her face set and determined. Two more corridors, another right, and then a left, her pace suddenly stilted, a white door now loomed before her. She glanced carefully about her for the third time since undertaking this dangerous mission. The corridor was clear, but she couldn't relax. Not until she was inside and out of sight._

_She moved one-step closer to the door, intentionally setting off the security sensor, alerting the person inside to her presence. Five seconds later, the plain white door opened silently, forming a triangle as each piece slid into its proper place, allowing Delenn to enter. She stepped over the threshold and the triangular pieces glided back into place, sealing her in with the smoothest of effort._

_The room was dark save three candles in the center. She moved in the direction of the candles, arms outstretched in front of her afraid she'd run into a table or chair. But she need not have been afraid of such conventional accidents, for a hand reached for her, pulling her deeper into the darkness, deeper into the forbidden._

_One hand covered the mouth that threatened a scream, while the other took hold of her robe and roughly pulled her. She went willingly, her eyes wide and heart racing, the hands fully in control. Deeper and deeper into the room she went, her thin frame virtually carried by the set of strong hands. And when she was to the candles, the only illumination brave enough to shed light on this unholy of events, did the hand over her mouth release her and the one on her back gentle._

"_I thought you had changed your mind, Delenn. You're late and you're never late."_

_She reached and touched the cheek of her captive, and smiled sweetly up at him. "You need to have more faith, Chimir. Faith doesn't come from a weapon, but the complex workings of the heart, of the mind."_

"_Ah, such the philosopher, no wonder Dukhat selected you. The two of you are alike in many ways—both dreamers. I, on the other hand," Chimir said, sitting on the couch and pulling Delenn next to him, "prefer my weapons. They're reliable and not subject to the whims of the mind or heart. One can never go wrong with a well-placed pike to the throat."_

_Delenn sighed and placed her fingers to Chimir's lips. "Everything in life isn't about battle. What about peace, Chimir?"_

"_Weapons bring about peace, Delenn, not prayers. No one respects prayers, but everyone respects power."_

"_You minimize the signficance of prayer and narrowly define power to military might only."_

"_What other might is there?" he asked, his voice a gentle challenge._

_The power of love she told herself. But she wasn't quite ready to make such a declaration aloud, for spoken words have meaning and a might of their own._

"_Lights at thirty percent," Delenn said, needing to see his face, his eyes, his deceptively wicked smile._

_They both blinked for several seconds, allowing their eyes to adjust to the slight change in illumination._

"_Ah, Delenn, you ruined the romantic atmosphere," Chimir complained, sounding like a spoiled child._

"_I didn't think warriors believed in romance," she said, laughing at his frowning face._

"_We don't," he said, his voice taking on a low, husky quality Delenn's come to know and appreciate over the last several months, "except when we want to impress a very special female."_

_He bent his head to kiss her and she accepted it with the same throat tightening anticipation as she'd done the very first time they'd kissed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, her body relaxing into the stolen familiarity. Chimir lifted her onto his lap, his sturdy arms supporting her, molding her body to his own, causing heat to radiate from every pore._

_And they kissed, slow, sensual, inexperienced kisses. Delenn traced the back of Chimir's bonecrest, her fingers dipping into the wild curves of his crest, while her other hand circled his right ear, enjoying the small shiver she felt run through him. Then it was she who shivered, Chimir running his hand from thigh to hip in an amazing display of blissfully torturous restraint._

"_Delenn, I don't know how much longer I can stand this," Chimir said, abruptly pulling out of the embrace. "I want to formally begin the courting rituals."_

_Delenn sighed and slid from his lap. They'd had this discussion before, and each time they did she was left with a great sense of foreboding. Beyond the obvious obstacles, a sickening part of her knew that her destiny wasn't with the warrior. Like her, he was young, untried and in search of self._

"_You know we cannot. Your father nor Dukhat will permit our joining." _

"_Because I'm warrior and you're religious," Chimir said. He nearly spat the words, his contempt for such outdated traditions obvious. "We are of age, Delenn, we can make our own decisions. We know our hearts; they do not. They keep us aboard the Valen'tha to learn from them yet they do not trust our good sense."_

_Delenn knew Dukhat did trust her mind. In fact, he placed much more faith in her than any other member of the Grey Council did in their own, more experienced aides. But she was only a few years out of Temple, a mere child in the eyes of some. No, Dukhat, like her father, was far too protective of her and her future to ever allow Delenn to make such a life altering alliance without serious consideration and meditation._

"_I am a mere acolyte, Chimir, whereas, your father is one of the nine. I cannot fathom any circumstance in which he would not wish you to mate with someone closer to your rank and who share your caste."_

_Chimir snorted. "You belittle yourself, Delenn, and inflate me. The House of Mir is a most respected family and you are no __mere__ acolyte. You are Dukhat's chosen, that's obvious to everyone, including my father. And as for me," he said with another self-deprecating snort, "I'm a second son whose only aboard this vessel because my father is afraid I'll get into trouble if left too long alone. He's training my brother to take his place on the council, not me, Delenn."_

_He looked away from her then and into the burning candle flames, his own fire dying in someone else's shadow, unable to see his own self-worth, his true path. Delenn moved closer and took him in her arms, wrapping him in her warmth of friendship and understanding. The universe may not intend for them to be together in the far off future, she thought as she moved to her knees and straddled his legs, but that didn't mean they weren't meant to be together now. Or for as long as they could. _

"_If I had known you would be so maudlin today, I would not have undertaken the mission to your quarters. I have a report to prepare for Dukhat on the race known as Humans. And if you insist on this path, then I'll just take my leave."_

_With mock effort, she made to disentangle herself from him, but strong hands held her down and laughter rippled through the barely lit room. _

"_That's why I love you so, Delenn of Mir. You're the only one aboard this huge cruiser that truly knows me, sees me . . . accepts me. Not even my father, brother, or cousin Neroon can boast that claim."_

_He took her face between his hands and they kissed, Delenn sighing into his mouth as she allowed him to claim her, his thigh muscles tense and rigid underneath her own. And the heat between them swelled as it always did when they stole such time for themselves. _

_Dukhat would lock her in her quarters, or worse, sanction them both, if he knew what she'd been doing the last six months. Laws of propriety, subject to censure, explicitly forbade unsupervised rendezvous' between young, unmated males and females. She knew, they both knew, but youth and the first blush of passion were hard to ignore. But something would have to give, Delenn knew that as well. _

_And that day came several weeks later, one evening after Delenn's induction into the Grey Council as Satai._

**Part 2**

_She heard the beeping of the security system. She knew someone was on the other side of the door, but her mind couldn't register anything other than pain and anger. So much anger, so much blood, and no peace, only war and death remained. She'd seen to that, her teary eyed, blood thirsty cry of 'No mercy,' shattered her peace, her sanity._

_The door beeped again, its incessant blaring angering her even more. She rose, located her denn'bok, extended it, and went to the door. With one fierce command, it hissed opened and she raised the pike for a strike, her eyes blackened with unseeing rage. _

"_No, Delenn, it's me," Chimir yelled, Delenn's pike yielding right above his arm shielded head._

"_Chimir?"_

"_Yes, love, it's me," he said, peeking from behind his arms, slowly lowering them as she lowered the pike._

"_Chimir," she repeated, her voice slurred, the denn'bok clanking as it hit the floor. "They killed him. They killed, Dukhat."_

_Her voice was a low wail now and her body started to follow the path of the fallen weapon. But Chimir caught her up in his arms and walked until he reached her couch, and sat. _

"_They killed him," she cried into his black uniform. "They attacked without provocation and stole the best of us. I hate them."_

"_I know, Delenn. I know and those Humans will pay. We will track them to their homeworld and make them all pay. That I promise."_

_Somewhere in her delirium, Delenn could hear the veracity of his words, feel the power of his intention, of his own righteous madness. _

"_We all heard your call for 'No mercy,' and the Warrior Caste will make it so. I will avenge him for you, for us all. Please don't cry, love, I can't bear it," Chimir said, wiping at her tears and his own. "In Valen's name, Dukhat will be avenged."_

_And the pain induced madness slithered through them like a venomous snake, corrupting all in its path, shedding what it was, giving way to a new, hardened, unfeeling self with a single purpose—death to all Humans._

_And in that madness, nothing mattered. There was no future, no castes, no propriety, only now, only the present, only them. She knew a glorious death would claim them soon, but not now, not tonight. Tomorrow they would fight, tomorrow all of Minbar would know what happened on this fateful day, and they too would pick up arms. But tonight, in the fiery stench of a floating grave, they gave their virginal selves to each other, reduced to their primal essence, their basic instinct to survive and find shelter with another. _

_That night she watched him sleep. But it wasn't the true face of Chimir that rested on the pillow beside her. Chimir, her Chimir, was a gentle, light-hearted young man whose soul was born into the wrong caste. She'd always known that about him, no matter how hard he tried to convince his father and himself otherwise. But the face she looked upon now held no gentle, loving appeal. Hard angles and grimness marred his poetic features, his pallor gray, the light and innocence gone. He was gone and so was she. And all that remained was madness and revenge._

**Part 3**

"Earth to Delenn," Susan said, waving her hand in the direction she believed Delenn was looking, which, by the way, wasn't at her.

She'd spaced out for the third time since their meeting began and the initial surge of concern upon learning of Delenn's early return from Chimir's home was now fully blossomed and about to burst. The Rangers who served as Delenn's escorts the previous night had given her a detailed report first thing this morning, looking none-too-pleased. They were clearly angry because it was so obvious Delenn was upset when she returned to the transport earlier than expected. They wanted someone to blame, specifically, they wanted someone to hurt on her behalf. No matter how much the Rangers trusted and respected her, Susan knew she could never compete with Delenn for their hearts or loyalty. Not that she wanted to, in fact, she understood such devotion. She felt the exact same way about John Sheridan.

"I'm sorry, Delenn, I shouldn't have pushed. It's just . . . it's just you and Chimir seemed so well matched."

Delenn turned her green eyes on Susan and she could see the horribly lost look in her friend's eyes. Her guilt meter jumped ten spaces, and a headache started to form. She'd crossed the line with her well-intentioned matchmaking and apparently it had blown up all over Delenn.

_Shit, shit, shit, Susan. When will you ever learn to keep your big, fat mouth shut? She's a grown woman capable of handling her own love life or not, if that's her wish. Now you've gone and made things worse and she'll probably retreat even deeper in her little hole. Great, just great._

"You are not to blame, Susan, and neither is Chimir. You only did what you thought was right. I could've refused, but I did not."

"Do you wanna talk about it? My advice sucks," she said with deliberate self-admonishment, "but I'm a pretty good listener."

Delenn placed her hands on her desk and laced her fingers together and gave what Susan considered to be a scrutinizing look. After several tense seconds of piercing silence, Delenn relaxed into her leather swivel chair and said, "He kissed me."

"And that's a bad thing?" she asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. But Delenn's raised brow told her she'd done a piss poor job.

"I thought you were only going to listen."

Susan raised her hands in defeat and nodded. "Go ahead, I'm all ears," she said, and then proceeded to mimic zipping her lips.

Delenn gave a disheartened laugh and shook her head. "John used to do that and I never understood how one could pretend to close one's mouth but was incapable of truly keeping it shut. Like you, he could never simply listen without expressing an opinion of his own."

She paused and gave Susan another considering look. "I think Humans are uncomfortable with long silences and Minbari too comfortable with them."

Susan reflected on that a minute and could see no flaw in her observation, so she agreed with a slight nod of the head.

"Was it a nice kiss?" she asked, bringing Delenn back to the topic.

Delenn's eyes dropped to an apparently very interesting spot on her desk. "It should've been."

"Why wasn't it?"

Delenn paused, still enraptured by her desk. But Susan waited. She wasn't going to be the Human who died a long painful death at the hands of quiet air. Hell, not after what Delenn just said. She could wait, she had some patience after all. She wasn't a total Neanderthal, Susan reminded herself as the seconds ticked by like a festering boil on her skin.

"Because I wouldn't allow it," Delenn finally admitted, raising her eyes. "I felt like I was being unfaithful to John. I know it sounds crazy, but that's how it made me feel."

Now Susan really was brought to silence. She didn't know what to say to Delenn. She couldn't tell her not to feel that way. She was entitled to her emotions, no matter how debilitating. And Susan had to admit, she'd never loved anyone as much as John and Delenn loved each other.

"Maybe it was Chimir," Susan attempted. "Perhaps having a good working relationship with someone and having them be attracted to you isn't enough."

"It should've been enough. We have a long history. I should've felt more . . . felt something other than a wife's sense of betrayal."

"Perhaps, it was his true face that turned you off," Susan tried again.

Delenn gave a weak but genuine smile, causing Susan to feel like she'd missed a fly ball.

"No, he has a wonderful true face. The one he should've had all those years ago, the one I robbed him of for too many years to count."

Yup, she'd missed something and was now standing in left field with an empty mitt and mouth open looking into the blinding sun.

"So you liked his true face?" she said, determined to finish the inning, realizing all may not be lost on the romance front.

"Yes."

"Great, so what's the problem? He likes you, you like his true face. That's more than what most relationships start out with."

"I'm the problem," Delenn said, standing, her palms flat against the desk, her eyes haunted. "Haven't you been listening, Susan, I'm the problem. Me, not Chimir but me. I'm incapable of feeling anything beyond friendship for any man other than John. And the sad truth is that I'm not sure if I want to because that would mean I have to give him up. I can't go back but my heart won't allow me to go forward."

Delenn fell back into her chair, her body limp and weak, her eyes a hopeless shade of green.

"What can I do to help?" Susan asked, fearing she already knew her answer.

"Nothing."

Yes, the expected but unacceptable response, and Susan was hearing none of it. She refused to allow Delenn to implode. John wouldn't want her to live like this, to deny herself happiness and pleasure with Chimir or another. She had been a good wife to John and was still a good wife to him, but he'd left her behind and she no longer owed him such loyalty, such devotion. At least, Susan reasoned, not at the expense of her own sanity.

Delenn had turned away from her, the back of the swivel chair now facing the desk, effectively ending the meeting. Susan stood, straightened her cloak, and moved toward the door.

"I'll see you later, Delenn," she said. She expected no reply and she received none.

Susan softly closed the door behind her and walked determinedly to her office. Once inside she moved to her desk, hit two keys on the Alliance com system and said, "Download residential address of Chimir of the Star Riders clan to my mobile unit."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4: Second Chances

**Chapter 4: Second Chances**

**Part 1**

Chimir lay awake, his eyes closed, shielded against the sun streaming in from the bay window. But it wasn't the welcoming rays of the morning sun he was avoiding, but the bleak vastness of his empty bedroom. The shadows of a failed night of sleep watching hovered in the corners of the room, peering at him with sympathy and remorse.

He slowly and reluctantly opened his eyes. Unable to stop the impulse, his orbs darted to his left and settled on the vacant chair beside his bed. And like the shadows, the chair taunted him with his failure, his inadequacy. He'd long since ascended to the rank of leader of the Warrior Caste, the greatest honor within his clan and caste. Through his actions, warrior spirit, and intelligence, he'd obtained all of his life's dreams, except two.

After all these years, Chimir desperately sought the ultimate approval and recognition from his father and knew only one accomplishment would do. He must become one of the nine. He'd coveted the position of Satai for so long, he now wondered if it was ever his true dream or simply the dream of a man-child seeking love from a father who had no idea how to relate to a son who preferred art, music, literature, and prayer to battle drills and strategy sessions. No, Chimir learned, as a child that his interests were not valued by his caste and clan; in fact, they were seen as weaknesses. So, Chimir buried that part of himself, becoming the warrior his father wanted, the warrior Minbar needed against the Humans. But he wasn't that anymore either; yet, old dreams die hard and Chimir still dreamed of becoming The One.

Chimir leaned up in bed, still staring at the depressingly empty chair, remembering his second unfulfilled dream. Delenn of Mir, now Delenn Sheridan, haunted his waking and sleeping hours since her return from Babylon 5 nearly three decades ago. She was of the past, he told himself when she arrived with her Human husband and her half Human body that would soon bear her partly Minbari child. And for many years Chimir pushed thoughts of her from his mind, relegated her to the same dusty prison where he'd banished his love of music and literature and all things gentle and comforting. But that too changed, and he found himself wishing and dreaming and opening himself up to the possibility.

Chimir swung his legs over the bed and groaned, the possibility of opening the door to second chances having slammed firmly in his face last night.

_Who knew a kiss could be an exit instead of an entrance? Valen help me. I need your guidance, your wisdom, your strength. What am I to do? How can I bridge the chasm that separates our souls and help her rebuild her heart?_

Chimir stood, and as he did so, pain shot through his head, entering but finding no exit. He'd experienced sudden bouts of cranial pain before, but never like this, never this strong, never this excruciating. Reflexively, Chimir grabbed both sides of his head, closing his eyes against the blindly pain that started somewhere in the hollow of his inner ear and ending in his cerebral cortex. Chimir screamed, reached for his bed to steady his unstable body, and collapsed. As darkness and pain overtook him, he could hear an unfamiliar yet reassuring voice from the sympathetic shadows whisper an answer to his question.

"You cannot bridge the chasm that separates your soul from the one you desire. You cannot rebuild my child's heart, for you are not the one who holds it captive. That isn't your fate, your responsibility. But there is a way, there is a way."

**Part 2**

Chimir lay sprawled on his back, eyes upward, unfocused yet all seeing, all knowing. The throbbing ache in his head was gone but the one in his heart remained. He rolled onto his right side, using his arm to support his weight. Slowly, very slowly, he extended his arm, searching for the bed and pulling himself upward. To his surprise, his wobbly legs held his weight.

He looked down at himself, his black silk robe covering him from chest to ankle. Chimir glanced about his bedroom, narrowing in on a single slightly ajar door.

_The bathroom._

Chimir walked cautiously to the room, keeping his movements steady. The pain may have receded but his equilibrium wasn't totally restored. Once he reached the door, one hand tentatively lifted and pushed the door further open. A midsize washroom loomed before him, clean, crisp, and efficient. But Chimir only had eyes for one feature—the mirror.

Walking like a man unsure of his fate, Chimir squared his shoulders and made his way to the crystal full-length mirror. He stood in front of it but only saw his toes. Head hung improbably low, Chimir inhaled deeply, shored up his nerves, and lifted his head. The reflection was of a well-built, middle-aged Minbari male with dark gray eyes and a grim expression.

Disgusted, Chimir turned from the image and swore. This wasn't what he'd expected. This wasn't part of the plan. It wouldn't do, it simply wouldn't do.

Chimir walked quickly from the bathroom and back into the bedroom, his eyes searching every part of the room. He ran out the bedroom door and down the hall, entering every room he encountered. Nothing. Nothing but silence and the solemn face that met him each time he glimpsed his reflection.

Chimir ran back into his bedroom, halting when the one he sought stood before him.

"I didn't agree to this," he said, waving a hand over his body. "Not him. Anyone but him."

"There is no other and time is of the essence." His voice was gentle, words spoken slowly as if he was trying to explain basic math to a moron. "He is the right one, in the right place, at the right time. He will do, John, and you will make sure he succeeds."

John Sheridan glanced at the First One and frowned.

"You should've warned me," he complained, feeling like he'd been blindsided. "Out of all the men in the universe, hell on Minbar, you had to drop my soul into the body of this asshole."

Lorien raised one long, thin finger, as if to scold but then lowered it, shaking his equally long head instead. "I hoped you would be able to look past the body and focus on the mission. The mission is all that matters, John, not your opinion of your host. Without him and his relationship with Delenn, you would not be here."

John's frown deepened. He knew Lorien spoke the truth and he wasn't ready to think about what type of relationship existed between Chimir and Delenn. As far as he was concerned, she was still his wife and Chimir was nothing more than an opportunistic interloper.

Nervous and angry, John lifted his right hand to run it through his hair, suddenly stopping when tender flesh met hard bone.

"Dammit, I can't do this, Lorien. I don't know the first thing about being Minbari. Hell, after twenty years of living among them, I still never managed the accent. And I know nothing of Chimir's life."

"You have his memories, John. Everything he is and was, is inside of you. All you need to know to complete your mission is right there," he said, pointing one of his fingers into Sheridan's chest.

John took a moment to reflect on those words, focused on the Warrior Caste and was flooded by images, facts, events, and much, much more. His head swam with knowledge, Chimir's knowledge and personal experience. And in that one instant, he knew him, almost as well as he knew himself.

Sheridan struggled to place his weary soul in a chair, the power of the images overwhelming, enlightening. He had no idea.

"I was wrong about him."

"Yes, we know."

We? John ignored the plural, his mind still reeling from being plunged into the mind of another.

Sheridan laid his head against the rise of the chair, his eyes closed, his mind searching. Several frustrating minutes later, he opened them, the frown renewed.

"The images of Delenn are sketchy, sparse, incomplete. The others were as vivid and detailed as watching a vid but not the ones of her. Why is that, Lorien?" he questioned, sitting up and focused.

"One body. Two minds. Two souls."

"You mean to tell me Chimir is still in here?" He pointed to his temple.

"Yes. He's submissive to your dominant, but he still exists."

"If I'm dominant, why can't I see everything about Delenn?"

Lorien paused, seeming to give Sheridan's question serious thought.

"You must understand, I've never done this before, so I have no precedent from which to judge. But it's reasonable to assume that the submissive host retains a certain amount of control, at least when it comes to the information he wishes to share."

"Are you telling me," Sheridan said, rising, "that Chimir is deliberately withholding information about his relationship with Delenn from me?"

"That would be the most likely conclusion. However," Lorien said, "the longer you remain in his body, the weaker his will becomes and the stronger yours become."

"Meaning, in time, he'll spill whether he wants to or not."

Lorien nodded then cautioned. "But you will not occupy his body long enough for that to happen, John. Remember, you are not here to stay."

Yes, Sheridan didn't need to be reminded of that little fact. He was given this second chance to save himself.

"Explain it to me, again, Lorien. I need to understand all."

The First One nodded. "You and Delenn share one piece of the other's soul. You complete each other; make the other whole. That bond is special but it doesn't come without caution."

"Caution?" Yes, this was the part Sheridan needed explained to him again. How could his bond with Delenn be bad?

"Seven years ago you died, John, but you haven't moved on. Your death was merely a physical one, your mind, your heart, all you were or ever wanted to be is still here, on Minbar, with Delenn and David."

"They're my family, Lorien, for God's sake." He was angry. Lorien had been too long without a family, without a home, Sheridan thought. He couldn't understand what he'd given up, what he'd left behind. He had a right to his memories, to this thoughts of hearth and home.

"Of course," Lorien said, momentarily dropping his eyes. "But your refusal to leave the old and accept the new is slowly killing you."

"I'm already dead, my friend, or have you forgotten."

"There are many facets of death. Seven years ago, you only experienced a physical cessation of life, but now, you risk dying metaphysically, spiritually even. Without this body, you are nothing more than moving electrical energy. That energy, in its complete, conscious state, can only stay as such, on this side of the rim, for a limited time. And you have virtually exhausted that time."

"Meaning?"

"It means, you must move beyond the rim in order to live. And in order to do that, you must shed your former life and embrace your new one."

"I'm not a dog. I don't shed and my family aren't inconsequential hair to be swept in a pile and discarded," he huffed.

"No, but if you ever want to see either one of them again, you must release them. They will be returned to you, John. But if your remaining life essence burns out and is absorbed back into the universe, you are lost to them forever."

_Forever._

That word echoed in his head like a horrible scream. The kind you couldn't outrun because it was inside you, coming from you.

"What do I need to do?"

"You need closure."

"How do I get closure?"

Lorien paused again and John knew whatever he was mulling over wasn't something he wanted to hear. But he would listen, because there was no way in hell he was going to ruin his opportunity of eternity with Delenn and David.

"You must," Lorien started and Sheridan stiffened at his grave tone, "free Delenn from the binds that bond you. You must let her go."

_Let her go._

He then remembered into who's body his mind and soul now resided and his face reddened with fury.

"You mean I have to convince her to accept another man, to accept Chimir as her mate and to forget about me."

"Yes, it's the only way."

"Like hell," he yelled. "I may be inside his body, but it's still _his_ body. If he couldn't convince Delenn to open up to him, I damn sure won't help him. What kind of husband you take me for, Lorien. I won't help any guy get my wife into bed. Hell no, out of the question."

His words were final but the look in Lorien's eyes said the conversation wasn't over.

"In order for you to release her and save yourself, she must also release you. The only way she can do that is by opening herself up to the possibility of new love."

"Delenn doesn't love, Chimir, she loves me."

Lorien said nothing, his small, round eyes withholding something. John could sense it. What was it? Hell, First Ones could be such a pain in the ass, cryptic and damn frustrating.

"You have two months, John, and not a second longer. She's watched him sleep once. She must finish the sleep watching and complete the Shan'Fal with Chimir. If she doesn't, you'll be lost to each other forever."

"But—''

Sheridan started to protest but Lorien evaporated before his eyes. Perhaps the disappearing act should've surprised him, but seven years without a body makes a man blasé about certain things. But his parting words were unforgettable.

_She's watched him sleep once._

Lorien had said those words and just when Sheridan began trying to convince himself that the First One was mistaken, an image came to his mind—a kiss, in this room, on that bed.

John glared at the slanted bed and then his eyes settled on the chair bedside it. It was true. Delenn had watched another man sleep. She had wanted to see Chimir's true face. John gave a disgruntled laugh that was harsh, brittle, and laced with pain, with loss. She was no longer his. He had to give her up to get her back.

John walked back into the bathroom and to the full-length mirror. He stared at the reflection with contempt and disdain. This was the man he had to use to woe Delenn, to convince her to sever ties with him and forge new ones with Chimir. At that moment he cursed fate, the prophecy, the universe, Z'ha'dum, the Vorlons and Shadows and himself. The full-length mirror didn't stand a chance, the broken shards a subtle metaphor for the current state of his heart.

Sheridan returned to the outer room, a consistent and most annoying beeping drawing him from his melancholia. He didn't have to question the source of the sound, for Chimir had easily offered up that bit of information. How kind of him. It was the security gate. Someone was at his front gate. He wasn't ready to begin the lie. He wasn't ready to pretend to be the man who would steal Delenn's heart away from him. But he had no choice. Like Lorien said, he had to give her up to get her back.

Sheridan moved to the security screen on the other side of the room. He punched one button, and a view of the front of Chimir's home came into view. A familiar unsmiling face in Valen's cloak waited impatiently for him to answer.

"My God, Susan."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. Chapter 5: Her Men

**Chapter 5: Her Men**

**Part 1**

After having his housekeeper admit Susan, Sheridan took the next twenty minutes to quickly take care of Chimir's morning hygienic ritual and dress. After undressing out of the black sleeping robe, Sheridan couldn't help looking at the body he now occupied. It was definitely odd seeing a man other than himself nude. But that wasn't what disturbed him the most. What grated on his pride and dignity was the obvious fit state of the Minbari. There wasn't an ounce of body fat on the man. He was lean, muscled, and damnably strong. And Sheridan had to admit that Delenn's last image of him was a man with a growing midsection and gray hair. He could now admit that he'd unconsciously let himself go, mild depression riding his last few years. What was the point, right? What would it matter what he ate or whether he exercised, he had no future.

Sheridan huffed, wishing Chimir wasn't such a physical specimen. And he wasn't so naïve or arrogant to believe that Delenn couldn't or wouldn't find him attractive. Minbari may not be as obsessed with physical looks as Humans, but he knew from experience that they did find strength of body appealing. And Delenn was no exception. She was a woman and what woman wouldn't rather have a rock hard man of steel in her bed than a flabby, aging dinosaur. And Sheridan didn't even want to think about the most obvious comparison. Not that he ever lacked in that area, but the thought of Delenn seeing Chimir naked and fully erect was more than he could handle.

If it was just two more nights of sleep watching, John thought he could manage that without too much distress. But there was the Shan'Fal. Sheridan visibly shook himself at the thought, finished dressing, and made his way into the living room where the housekeeper had asked Susan to wait.

Sheridan paused at the threshold and simply watched his old friend. She was at the east window, her back to him. Her hands were clasped firmly behind her back, Valen's cloak long and fitting on her, and her hair pulled back and up into a neat, conservative bun. And she was a blessed sight to his homesick eyes.

"Anla'Shok Na Ivanova, I apologize for keeping you waiting," John said, his voice causing her to turn around and away from her thoughts.

Her posture was rigid, face serious, but not unpleasantly so, and Sheridan wanted to pick her up into a big bear hug and swing her around. He laughed to himself thinking how she would react if Chimir of the Warrior Caste did that very thing. He bit back the unbidden thought of Susan taking a PPG to Chimir's very distinguished ass.

She bowed slightly but respectfully and said, "Shai Alyt Chimir, it is I who should apologize for coming to your home unannounced and without an appointment. Please forgive my intrusion."

And for the second time in less than three minutes, Sheridan wanted to laugh. She was on her best behavior, her serrated edges nicely hidden behind proper Minbari manners. Susan Ivanova, a product of Delenn's School of Minbari Etiquette. Ah, he knew it well, the one founded especially for her culturally tactless Human of a husband. Her tips had saved his political ass on more than one occasion.

"No intrusion at all. I assume it must be important for you to work me into your busy schedule."

"It is," she said, showing the first signs of discomfort. "My visit is of a personal nature."

He assumed as much.

"It's about President Sheridan, Delenn."

He knew that as well.

He considered offering her a seat, returning her manners with some of his own. But he knew Susan very well and when she was nervous and about business, the last thing she wanted to do was sit.

"Did she ask you to come?"

A small smile graced her features then she furrowed her brows. "I suspect by the end of the day, I may find myself in the unemployment line. No matter," she said, waving the thought away.

"Delenn would never do that."

"Of course she wouldn't, but she won't be pleased with me, which is worse than losing my job."

Yeah, Sheridan knew that side of Delenn. The side that never had to raise her voice to make you quake in your boots, how he'd missed her.

"This is about last night . . . the sleep watching," she clarified, pulling John from his thoughts of Delenn.

He was suddenly very interested in what she had to say, Chimir none-too-forthcoming about the events of last evening. Besides, the kiss, he'd revealed nothing more to him. Strategy told him to wait for her to elaborate, hoping she would fill in the missing pieces without realizing he was a blank slate. But his instincts told him that Susan wouldn't have appeared on his doorstep so early in the morning if the ritual had gone well.

"How is she?" he asked.

Susan paused, clearly managing her next words for maximum result.

"You've been a very good friend to her and I hope that will continue," she said diplomatically, conveniently sidestepping his question.

Yes, Delenn had taught her well.

"Do you see any reason for that to change?"

Something happened last night between Chimir and Delenn, John could feel it in his . . . well, his host's bones.

_Come on, Susan. I need more than Minbari vague speak._

Sheridan knew he couldn't ask a direct question like, 'What did she say happened last night,' or 'Is she planning on coming back for a second night of watching.' Minbari training or not, Susan Ivanova would never betray a confidence.

Instead, he said, "I have no intention of severing our friendship, if Delenn still wishes my companionship." He gave a strategic pause and said, "Does she?"

"She does," Susan cautiously answered. "And I think she would enjoy your company at dinner tonight."

Tonight? Hell, Sheridan thought to give himself a day or two to iron out a plan of attack. He had no idea how to accomplish his task or whether he truly wanted to. Winning would mean losing. Winning would mean watching his wife fall in love with Chimir and out of love with him. He needed time, but he was also too much of a soldier to allow an opportunity to slip through his fingers.

"Dinner sounds like a nice idea. Will you be there as well?"

"Unfortunately, yes, as will David. He has a few days of leave and likes to spend most of it with his mother."

_David._

In the madness of the last couple of hours, Sheridan hadn't considered the possibility of seeing his son. And now he was just given a chance to spend an entire meal with him and Delenn. This was a dream he didn't dare have.

"I would be most honored to have dinner with the three of you. What time?"

"I'll have a transport pick you up around 1700 hours and I'll meet you at the compound. We'll go in together, and when you're ready, a Ranger will return you home."

"Sounds like a plan," he said and Ivanova's right eyebrow rose, her discerning eyes narrowing.

It was a slip and he had been doing so well. If he was to fool his family, Sheridan knew he would have to do better.

Ivanova shrugged off whatever had bothered her about his statement and gave him a polite nod.

"Thank you for your time, Shai Alyt Chimir, I'll see you at dinner."

Sheridan turned to see Chimir's housekeeper waiting in the foyer right outside of the living room. Ivanova bowed once more and allowed the housekeeper to see her out.

Sheridan had eight hours to prepare.

_Dear God, my seven-year wish will come true in only eight hours._

Sheridan collapsed on the sofa, suddenly very tired, his heart, Chimir's heart, frantically beating with frightening anticipation.

**Part 2**

Sheridan followed Susan to the presidential quarters as if he hadn't made the trek a thousand times before. His first day as a born again blood and flesh man was but a blur. Chimir's memories told him what he should've done today, but there was no way in hell Sheridan could manage to follow such a strict routine without giving everyone the impression that Chimir was in desperate need of a healer. Two months wasn't much time, and he'd be damn if he wasted a minute of it. He would do just enough to get by, to convince everyone all was as it should be, and no mystical hocus-pocus was going on.

During those eight hours, Sheridan formulated a rough plan. In mapping out a plan to woe his wife, he'd reached a startling conclusion. He had absolutely no idea what he'd done the first time to get her to fall in love with him. He assumed he'd done something. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out exactly what. One day they were friends, allies, and the next . . . much more. How in the hell had that happened without him noticing?

And Chimir was no help, still refusing to share his memories of Delenn. Sheridan needed to know what the man had already tried, so he wouldn't duplicate wasted effort. And Sheridan knew it was wasted effort, for if Chimir had been successful, his bond with Delenn would've been severed and his soul would now be somewhere beyond the rim. Chimir may not be the conceited, power hungry Warrior Caste leader Sheridan once thought him to be, but when it came to Delenn, he was still a grade A asshole who coveted another man's wife.

Susan unlocked the door and ushered him in. They walked down a hall, made a right, and turned into the main dining room. The table was already set, for three, he noticed.

_She's not expecting me. Shit._

In the time it took him to notice the limited place settings, was the same time it took Sheridan to notice the man sitting in the first chair to the right of the head of the table.

"David," he breathed, his voice low.

His son rose, his tall frame sliding away from the table and around the chair. He was taller than him, or rather taller than Chimir by three or four inches. Sheridan stared to speak, feeling his mouth open but unable to close it. David was no longer a boy, no longer a gangly young man just beginning Ranger training with pimples decorating his forehead. He was a solidly built man of twenty-six whose forest green eyes were looking past him and at Susan.

"What in the hell are you thinking, Susan?"

"That's no way to address your superior officer," she chided, her voice lacking the power of her words.

"In this house, we're family. We drop the titles at the door and you're just Aunt Susan to my David, or little David if you want to go there."

"Where's Delenn?" she asked.

"Mom's taking a call in her study."

"Good, that gives us a few minutes to talk."

"About the fact that you brought Shai Alyt Chimir here without asking or even warning her."

David turned his attention to Sheridan then and bestowed a low bow of respect, his fingers making the sign of the triluminary.

"No disrespect, Chimir, but my mother doesn't like surprises. And your presence will be a—''

"Unwelcome surprise?" Sheridan questioned.

"Not unwelcome, just a surprise."

David gave Sheridan a long, disapproving look. "She told me about last night."

"She did," he said, wondering what Delenn had told their son and whether Chimir had done something that would give David cause to avenge his mother's honor.

"Susan and I only want the best for her. She hasn't been the same since my father died. You've known her for a long time, I'm sure you've noticed."

Sheridan nodded. He didn't know what else to do. This was all news to him, and the smallest embers of guilt started to form.

David looked at Susan again, his eyes inexplicably sad and angry. "He didn't do the right thing before he left, and now she suffers because of his—''

"This isn't the time, David, and I didn't ask Chimir here for this."

Sheridan was lost. He was missing something huge and had a feeling it was the key to completing his mission.

David turned his eyes upon him and said, "Unlike my aunt, I'm not interested in promoting a romantic relationship between you and my mother. No offense, but the thought of it is disturbing, if not downright disgusting. But there is something about you that appeals to her . . . something she won't share, even with me."

"We're friends," Sheridan said, echoing what Delenn had said about Chimir so many years ago.

"True," David said, his eyes critical, suspect, "but there's more. She won't tell me and I respect her privacy too much to push."

_More? What more could there be?_

Sheridan found himself grinding his teeth. He didn't like this, he didn't like it at all. She was his, not Chimir's.

"You may stay for dinner and you're welcome in our home but," he stepped back and looked at both him and Susan, "neither one of you will push her into another night of sleep watching. She knows her mind and if she desires to see your true face for a second night, she will come to that conclusion on her own." He pointed at them, "Without interference from either one of you."

This mission had gotten exceedingly more complicated, but as Sheridan looked at his grown son, a well of pride sprung forth, the urge to wrap his arms around his shoulders almost unbearable. David had nicely claimed his place in the family, taking on the role of his mother's protector. It was a role Sheridan proudly played for over twenty-years and a guilt he'd taken with him aboard his last White Star flight. But it was wasted guilt, for his son had so effectively picked up the mantel.

"I have no intention of offering Delenn anything more than friendship."

"But you'll take more."

_As blunt as usual._

"Of course, Delenn is a wonderful woman. She knows and respects fear but never let it control her, she loves fiercely and passionately, she's a philosophical and religious warrior who understands that force is sometimes necessary, and she's a dreamer of the highest caliber with faith bright enough to light this entire planet."

And with those honest words, Sheridan realized it was Chimir who had formulated them and not him. Sheridan realized one other thing.

_He loves her. Chimir, __truly, deeply loves my Delenn._

Temporarily appeased, David released Sheridan from his hard glare and turned it on Susan.

"She's going to have your cloak for pulling this stunt, and don't expect me to intervene."

"You're such a brat, David, and I'm not afraid of your mother," Susan said, stepping around Sheridan and facing David.

She punched him in the arm and then hugged him fiercely. "I've missed you, kid. Try not to be away so long, your mother drives me mad when you're not around."

"She misses me. I'm her baby."

"Baby, my foot, you're a pain in my—''

"David, is that Susan I hear in there with you? Give me another minute and we can sit down for dinner."

Sheridan nearly collapsed upon hearing the familiar voice, his hand going to the nearest chair, steadying him.

_Dear God, I'm not ready._


	6. Chapter 6: Faith Manages

_**Author's Note:**__ Thank you to everyone who has followed this story and/or provided invaluable support through your comments. Your feedback is very much appreciated._

**Chapter 6: Faith Manages**

**Part 1**

John's throat tightened and his heart shoved against his chest, trying to escape, free itself from its confines. It wanted to run and hide, he wanted to shout for Lorien to rescue him from himself. And his brain, dear God his brain flickered on and off like a dying ceiling light, teetering on the edge of sanity and madness. He licked his dry lips and wondered if it was too late to decline the dinner offer, and he didn't need Chimir to tell him that leaving now would be a serious breach of Minbari etiquette.

The part of his brain that was still functioning heard David and Susan discuss his son's recent appointment as captain of one of the Whitestars. And while his fatherly pride served as a formidable opponent against his panic shrouded brain, it was no match for the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going blind and death. Sheridan's eyes filled with an indescribable haze, his ears full of ice- cold air, pushing against his cranium, causing his mind to nearly shut down from the effort to focus. Focus on the small tap, tap, tap of heels on wooden floor. She was coming and he was going to pass the hell out.

A second later, a jolt of awareness sizzled through him. He could feel her presence, although her sight was obscured from him. Susan and David stood in front of him, as if they were hiding or shielding him, protecting him from her or her from him. Yet, Sheridan knew it wasn't intentional, merely coincidental, but it gave him a few additional seconds to right his thoughts, to calm his nerves so he wouldn't come off as a drooling, brain dead idiot in front of her.

"Waloon will serve us as soon as we're seated," Delenn said. "She's gone through such trouble to make a special meal for David and refused listen to a word I had to say when I told her she needn't make a fuss. David has never been a particularly picky eater," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Sheridan could've drowned in the sweetness of her voice alone. The melody of it held him rooted to the floor, his hand bearing down on the wooden chair, his heart reaching out to Delenn's, but finding dead air.

David laughed. "I guess that's your way of saying I eat like a Pak'Ma'Ra."

"Well," Susan said, slapping David's back, "if the stomach fits."

The three of them laughed and Sheridan wanted to laugh with them, be one of them. But he wasn't, not in this body; not as John Sheridan, the husband, the father, the friend. He would never be that to any of them ever again. For the time being, he was Shai Alyt Chimir of the Warrior Caste, a peripheral friend of the family with delusions of much, much more. It would have to do though, for he had nothing else to offer himself or them.

And like the parting of the Red Sea, David and Susan moved aside, and across the Egyptian desert of loneliness, fear, and grief stood Delenn, his Mecca, his holy land, his soulmate. And if it was possible for the heart to cease its pumping of blood and the lungs to halt all oxygen circulation and one to still be alive, Sheridan would've been just that— a zombie—fixated on one thing.

Delenn's eyes quickly flashed to Susan, her face suddenly red and flushed. Anger then annoyance flickered just below her poised surface and despite Susan's words to David that she wasn't afraid of Delenn, she took two steps back, her palms going up in explanation.

"I thought it would be a good idea to have Shai Alyt Chimir to dinner so we could discuss the recruitment of additional Warrior Caste strategists and pilots. The new line of Whitestars will require specialized weapons training and our current staff of Worker Caste instructors can only educate the Rangers on the technical aspects of the craft."

Susan continued to plead her case, using the Rangers and the Alliance as her sole reason for inviting Chimir to dinner. Of course, it had nothing to do with her playing matchmaker against Delenn's wishes. Yeah, right.

At some point during Susan's lengthy monologue, Delenn's eyes had settled on him, or rather on Chimir. Sheridan felt naked under her penetrating gaze, as if she was seeing through Chimir and into him or he wished she could. He fervently desired for her to see him as the man he was, but no, that could never be.

And like a brain dead zombie drawn by an indescribable impulse to feed, he was pulled to her, unable to control the overwhelming force of her magnetic field. He leaned over and embraced Delenn. She was heartbreakingly soft and warm, and smelled of lavender and home, the way he remembered. Sheridan buried his face in her long, graying, brown hair. It was all he could do to prevent himself from weeping, allowing her mane to absorb his tears of joy, tears of pain.

And just when he thought she would push him way, or worse, David haul his ass away from his mother, she lightly circled her arms around his waist. It wasn't a passionate or even romantic gesture, but there was some un-nameable emotion there. For Chimir? He didn't know and honestly, it didn't matter, not now, perhaps later, but not now. He would take it. Oh yes, he would definitely take it.

"I'm sorry," Sheridan said, and Delenn gave the barest of nods.

He was sorry, but not for what happened between Delenn and Chimir last night, or whatever Delenn thought Chimir had to be apologetic about. No, Sheridan was sorry for dying, for leaving her alone, for her pain, for . . . He didn't know. All Sheridan knew was that he had to say the words and have her in his arms, no matter how awkward, no matter how inappropriate, no matter how fleeting.

**Part 2**

For the next hour, Sheridan simply enjoyed having dinner with his family. He knew he must look like a complete idiot, a huge grin having taken up residence on his face, refusing to leave.

Every taste, every sound was delicious to him. For seven-years, he existed only as electrical energy, whatever that meant. In fact, in that form, time ceased to exist. He was gone, but not gone. His body was God knows where, but his mind, his thoughts were still his, still sharp. However, there were times in which he wished otherwise. A body without a mind had to be better than a lifetime of memories without a body. If he could define his experience in those seven-years, he would sum them up in one word—torture.

And as much as this unexpected respite meant to him, Sheridan couldn't imagine going back to that existence. Sometimes, ignorance really was bliss. His smile faded then, replaced with a longing he didn't know how to fill. No, he knew how to fill it, it just wasn't possible. He had no body and he couldn't stay in Chimir's forever. It was on loan to him, and in two months, he had to give it back.

That was all he had—two months. It would have to do. He looked down the table and at Delenn. She was speaking to David about his recent promotion and he was telling her about his first mission as captain of a snub-nose Whitestar. And he realized which Whitestar he son now captained.

_My ship, he has the ship I piloted to Coriana 6. How in the hell? Why in the hell would he want that thing? He must know that's the ship I died in, the ship that took my body, but left my soul._

Sheridan didn't know if it was morbid or a crazy way for David to connect with a father who'd died when he was just coming into manhood. A father who would never see any of his accomplishments, a father who would always be beyond his reach, a father who'd left him a flying coffin of disembodied misery.

When Lorien had come for him, aboard the Whitestar, he asked Sheridan if he was ready and he'd replied that he was. It was a lie. The biggest lie he'd ever told in his life. Yet the truth would've done him no good. Would Lorien had simply said, "Okay," and granted him another twenty years? Of course not, so what would've been the point of repentant honesty. His twenty years was up, he had to go. No arguing, no bartering, no whining, no tears, his time was simply up and his body simply stopped.

And that should've been that, but it wasn't. He had stayed. He didn't mean to, he wasn't trying to be defiant. He merely couldn't will himself to go beyond the rim. He looked at Delenn again, she was giving him an odd little smile, her eyes dropping when he caught her gaze. She was the reason. Lorien was right. He was still bound to this place, to her, and he had to give her up so his soul could be set free and survive in order to connect with hers many years from now.

Yet, as Sheridan watched his wife, he didn't care about any of that. He wanted to be with her now and for however long he had. Hell, he didn't even know what Lorien meant about severing their bond. How could he be expected to do that in such a short amount of time? And what was up with the two month time limit anyway? If she hadn't cut their bond during the last seven years, what in the world did he expect him to do in eight lousy weeks?

And she was giving him that odd look again. He frankly didn't know if she was glad to see Chimir or what. No, that wasn't exactly true. She had definitely been pissed at Susan for inviting Chimir to her home without first clearing it with her, but she'd eventually relaxed into the idea and seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. And John would've liked to believe that it was his personality that was coming through that she found interesting, perhaps even appealing, but he couldn't be sure. In fact, he was almost positive she recognized none of him in Chimir. So, those odd little smiles she kept giving him was for Chimir and not a man who reminded her of her long dead husband.

This thought disturbed Sheridan, causing him to frown at one of the moments Delenn decided to turn her beautiful eyes his way. She gave him a questioning look then answered a question posed by Susan about budgeting and allocation of Ranger resources.

The remainder of the dinner, he nodded, spoke when spoken to, and shoveled Waloon's well-prepared dinner down Chimir's throat, curbing his desire to yell, "It's me, John. I'm back. I've missed you, love you. Love me." But he said nothing of the sort, his eyes threatening to water, his nerves raw, heart confused, mind fracturing.

As the dishes were cleared, Sheridan wandered off, surprised to find himself on the balcony. He looked back at the bench, their bench, and there was nothing in him that would allow him to sit on that bench. Instead, he stood by the railing, peering over the compound grounds. It was beautiful at night, the multicolored crystal buildings glistening in the blackened sky like lights on a Christmas tree. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten a lot. In the blackness of the universe, there was no light, only energy, only bleakness, only him.

"They're beautiful."

Sheridan turned to see Delenn standing behind him and pointing at the twin moons.

"Beautiful," he repeated, his gaze on her and not the moons.

She moved gracefully to stand beside him. She didn't speak and he was too afraid to do so. He had wanted to be alone with her during the course of the entire meal. He shamelessly stared at her, causing David to shoot daggers his way, grateful his son had more tact than he did. But now that they were alone, Sheridan didn't know what to say, where to begin.

"Delenn . . ." he started but stopped, his mind going blank.

She looked up at him expectantly, her mouth open, but no words came out. He guessed he wasn't the only one nervous.

_Why would she be nervous?_

The silence stretched between them and John grew anxious. Perhaps David was right. Perhaps there was something between Delenn and Chimir other than friendship. They had, after all, known each other for a very long time. But John never asked about the context or extent of their friendship. And frankly, he never cared. Chimir was a non-issue. Yes, he'd been angry when he found out about his romantic interest in Delenn, but he was never truly threatened by him or their friendship. Delenn had never given him any reason to doubt her fidelity and he didn't doubt it now.

Sheridan reached down and grasped Delenn's right hand in his left. He held it, gently caressing, stroking, Delenn silently accepting his touch, his affection. Feeling bold, he lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her knuckles. Her eyes widened at the gesture and John kicked himself. Minbari didn't hand-kiss. That was a Human custom and his mind flashed to another time in which he kissed her in the very same way, thanking her for the rescue from Clark's forces. She said they were "partners," but they both knew there were various levels and types of partnerships. They skirted around the true meaning then, and her eyes told him she was remembering the same event.

Delenn politely extracted her hand from his hold, her eyes quizzical, confused even.

"You're different tonight," she finally said, stowing her hands in the side pockets of her gray and blue robe.

Was she trying to give him a subtle signal to not touch her? He didn't know, but he wasn't about to let a little thing like propriety or good sense stop him. He wanted to touch her. Correction, he had to touch her.

He stood behind her, cautiously placed his hands on her waist, and his chin on the top of her head. Sheridan felt her stiffen but he didn't release her and she didn't step out of his loose embrace. It wasn't the greatest first move he'd ever made but he knew Delenn very well, and his wife liked to be held, reassured through touch that all was right in her world. He may not know what he'd done to have her fall in love with him all those years ago, but he knew the woman, and that was infinitely more valuable.

"The grand reopening of the Botanical Gardens is tomorrow," he said, moving to phase-one of his plan. "Would you like to attend? I know how much you enjoy the sight and smell of flowers."

The body that had slightly relaxed stiffened once again, her response slow to come.

"That . . . would be lovely. I have missed the gardens. I would very much like to see the additions. I'm told the Horticulture Institute imported several species of flowers from other worlds that can live and thrive on our planet."

She paused, relaxed again, and then said, "I'm pleased to see your renewed interests in aspects of Minbari culture that doesn't involve battles and weaponry." She took two deep breaths, her voice going lower, taking on a regretful tone. "I thought that side of you was lost forever . . . that I'd stolen such pleasures from you."

And now it was John who stiffened. He didn't know what to make of her words. They definitely had a past, conceivably a bit deeper than he'd ever imagined. And Delenn was guilty about that shared past. But why and about what? Hell, he really didn't want to know. Then again, he reasoned, Delenn had lived a long life before they'd ever met, much of which she never shared during the course of their marriage and he never asked. It just never seemed that important. Did it now? He didn't know.

She turned in his arms, leaning back, giving herself space, keeping her hands to her side.

"What I said last night is still true today, Chimir. I don't think I can give you what you want, be who you want me to be."

Her voice was thick with sorrow and pain. She hadn't let go of him. He could clearly see that now. He could also see that she had feelings for Chimir that went beyond mere friendship; yet, she denied herself even the slightest possibility of a second chance at romantic happiness. And while John thought that her eternal love for him would be wonderful, he now saw the pain it was causing her.

But she didn't have to give him up, he reminded himself. He was right there in front of her. She could still love him and him her. His plan could still work. With a bit of fine-tuning, it would work and the hell with Lorien and the First Ones.

"I won't push, Delenn," he said, as if he had all the time in the world. "I just want us to spend some time together, time to get to know each other."

"I can't guarantee another night of sleep watching," she said, running a nervous hand over her neck.

"I know . . . just don't rule out the possibility that you may want to see my true face for a second time. And if I'm very lucky, a third."

He _was_ pushing it, but he had to either roll the dice or pass his turn. And John Sheridan would be damned if he passed his turn.

She nodded and turned her back to him again, his arms still wrapped about her waist. She was so tiny, but he'd learned a long time ago that there was much strength within that delicate frame.

"You're different tonight," she said again, her voice a meager whisper in the dimness of the night.

"Is that good?" he asked, leaning down to speak the words directly into her ear, the force to kiss her there powerful—maddeningly so.

She didn't answer him. She didn't have to. He knew the answer. She accepted his invitation to the gardens—a date—and he was holding her. _He_ was holding her, not Chimir, but John Sheridan. That was the lie he consciously told himself and he would live every minute of it until Lorien ripped him hollering and screaming from Chimir's body. John admitted that to himself as well, for that was the only way he would ever allow himself to be separated from Delenn and David ever again.

_I love you_, he said to himself, wishing he could speak the words aloud. Instead, he said, "Life is never as it seems, Delenn. When one flame dies, another is born to replace it. You must have faith. Have faith and believe in me, in you. I'll see you tomorrow."

He grudgingly released her and left before she could respond. He had no idea where those words had come from, but he'd suspected Chimir had something to do with them. But like the first time Chimir had reared his supposedly submissive head, Sheridan wholeheartedly agreed with his statement. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one little bit. There could only be one captain, and as far as he was concerned, he was it. No mutinies allowed and definitely no sharing of the spoils.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	7. Chapter 7: Past, Present, Future

**Chapter 7: Past, Present, Future**

**Part 1**

"_Come back to bed, Delenn."_

_She turned away from the comfort of the flame and rejoined Chimir, her mind too jumbled to allow for a peaceful rest._

"_You haven't slept more than a few hours in a week. We have a war upon us, and you must lead us to victory, my love."_

_And there was the impediment, the reason for her sleepless nights and inability to meditate. How can one meditate with the screams of war and revenge as a backdrop? Her screams, her revenge, her war. Dukhat, the Humans killed Dukhat._

"_Am I?" Delenn asked, rolling on her side to face Chimir._

"_Are you what?"_

"_Your love? Am I?"_

_He laughed then pulled her closer, wrapping his right arm around her waist, eyes fathomless._

"_You are. I love you, Delenn."_

_He kissed her, his mouth warm and soft. She wished they could hide in her quarters forever, forgetting about the outside world and the ugliness to come._

"_Then stay here with me. Don't go, Chimir. Stay with me."_

_He leaned back from her, a slight frown beginning to form._

"_It's my duty to go. It's what I've been bred to do, to protect our homeworld and our people from those who would do us harm. The Humans have done us a tremendous harm, Delenn, and they must pay."_

"_We've already destroyed the ship that fired on ours. Is that not enough?"_

"_No, it isn't." His voice rose in anger, frown deepening. He sat up and peered down at her. "Do you think they'll let our destruction of one of their ships stand? Do you think they won't retaliate? They are unconscionable barbarians who fired on a vessel that intended them no harm. That cannot be forgiven."_

_She knew this would be his reaction, but she had to try. Delenn placed a firm hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back down. Reluctantly, he allowed the gentle persuasion._

"_I ask you to stay not because I doubt your honor, or your warrior spirit. My reason is much more selfish."_

_His eyes softened at her honest words and the beginnings of a smile started at the corners of his mouth. Delenn cradled his face in her hands and gently ran her lips over his, savoring the feel and taste of him._

"_I fear for your safe return."_

"_Those Humans can't harm me. A Warrior will fear not death as we are already dead. Only those of the living can fear."_

_She kissed him again, deeper this time, hoping he would understand her next words._

"_I fear for your soul, Chimir, your personhood, not your physical form. I believe you will return to me, but not as the man I know, the man I love."_

_He tried to pull away from her then, but she held him close, refusing to let him go._

"_I can see the change in you already. Ever since the attack, something in you has hardened or perhaps even broken. I feel the same in me and I don't know how to free myself from its malicious web. But this war isn't the answer."_

_Chimir managed to remove her hands from his face and hold them firmly in his own. _

"_War is never the answer, Delenn, but it must be done. I can't be the soft warrior who recites poetry to his mate or the warm hearted warrior who brings you flowers at the end of a tiring day. I can't be that male and fight this war. That type of warrior ends up on the other side of the rim, my love. I won't be one of them. I will return to you. Trust me."_

_She did trust him, but this wasn't about trust. He would lose himself in the war, become something dark, something unrecognizable. They all would, including herself. This she knew; this she feared. What could be done? Their fate sealed with one senseless attack and an even worse cry for vengeance—her cry, her vengeance, her war, but everyone's blood, Chimir's soul. _

"_Will you wait for me, Delenn? Can we begin the mating rituals once we destroy the barbarians and return home? You deserve better than all this sneaking around and I want to make a public declaration to both of our clans."_

_Tears burned her eyes, forcing them closed. They weren't meant to be. Chimir would never be her mate. She felt it with the same certainty she had about the war. It would be long, hard, and bloody—no winners, only losers. _

_Delenn wrapped her arms around Chimir's neck, a desperate need to be with him surging through her. She removed his robe, taking no care for the force she used to do it or where it landed. Delenn needed him now, needed his strength, his love, his masculine hardness. _

_Being together like this, without the sanctity of the mating rituals, was a sin, regardless of the caste to which one belonged. Yet, Delenn cared nothing for propriety or her honor. All she cared about was Chimir and the way he made her feel. And how she would feel when he left, for he would leave and they would never be like this again. Tonight was all they had, for tomorrow they would be home and it would begin—the madness, the war._

_Chimir didn't understand and she couldn't explain it to him. But she could love him, allow him to love her, one last time. _

**Part 2**

"Come in," Delenn said, forcing her mind to the present.

David entered and she smiled. She still couldn't get over how much he resembled his father and how fitting the captain's uniform looked on him. He was handsome and dignified and she was proud of him—her son, their son.

"I thought I would stop by before heading off. I'll be gone for the next month or so."

"I know," she said, rising and walking around her desk.

She gestured for him to join her on the beige and green office couch. They both sat and she couldn't help reaching up and running a hand through his hair, idly caressing his bonecrest with her thumb.

David removed her hand and placed it over his heart.

"You always get like this when I have to leave."

"I know. You're too old for me to worry so."

"I don't believe there's an expiration date on motherly concern."

He smiled, kissed the hand he held, and placed it on her lap.

"I wanted to speak with you."

"About your mission? It should be a simple one. Your crew need only escort the cargo ship to Narn space, making sure to keep an eye out for pirates."

"No, Mom, this isn't about the mission. Susan has already briefed me."

"Then what?"

"Shai Alyt Chimir."

She should've known. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet on the issue, allowing as much as a week to pass since Chimir joined them for dinner.

"How were the Botanical Gardens?"

"Beautiful."

"What about the Lelo'ur Festival?"

"Entertaining."

"What about the—''

"Get to the point, David."

Her son appeared a little uncomfortable, a slight pink coloring his pale face.

"Chimir's a nice enough guy, I suppose. He definitely seems interested in you."

He gave her a considering look then retook her hand, this time placing it on his knee.

"I worry about you living in that big house all by yourself."

"I'm fine. The guards are always there."

"That's not what I mean and well you know it. You spend far too much time by yourself. I like that Chimir's forced you out of the house. He's good for you."

"You think so?"

"I'm not suggesting you marry the guy, but he's brought a smile to your face that I don't see often enough."

"Has he?"

"You know, I hate it when you answer me in three words or less. It usually means you're not listening to a word I'm saying or hell bent on having things your way."

Delenn frowned. Looks weren't the only thing David inherited from John. He knew her far too well. She removed her hand from his knee, using it to run along her neck. She leaned back into the cushions, allowing the softness to hold her body.

"I have no intention of marrying Chimir. We have a lot in common and he's enjoyable to talk to, but nothing more will come of our relationship. He's just a friend."

She closed her eyes, seeing the image of Chimir in his black warrior caste battle armor, boarding a war cruiser, destination Earth.

Delenn felt the couch sink a bit deeper. David had mirrored her position. He reclaimed her hand, much the way his father did when he decided to push his point, not allowing her to retreat.

"You have to let him go, Mom. You can't go on like this. It's been seven years; he doesn't deserve your devotion."

She refused to open her eyes and look at David's, unwilling to see the familiar sad anger in them . They had this discussion before and David still hadn't forgiven his father. She wished he would, for both their sakes.

He ran a gentle thumb across the back of her hand, the callous from his denn'bok training a subtle reminder of his warrior's heart, his protective nature.

"You were alone when he died, when he decided to have his damn Sunday drive."

"Susan was with me."

"_I_ wasn't with you," he yelled, his body bolting upright, forcing her to open her eyes. And she saw them, green with a son's anger, a son's grief.

"He should've called me home. To hell with special privileges for the son of the Entilzha, he was my father and he was dying."

"David, please, don't," she pleaded, reaching for him. He stood, unwilling to be cajoled.

"No, he left you by yourself and there's no excuse for that. By the time someone told me what happened, you'd been living with his passing for a month. A whole god damn month. And what about me, Mom? Did he ever once consider my feelings?"

"He didn't want to burden you, David. He didn't want you to see him like that. He wanted to be strong for the both of us."

"That's a load of bull. He may have been the one dying but he wasn't in it alone. We lived every dreadful day with him. I cursed every year I got older because I knew that was one less year my father had. Can you imagine, a kid loving and hating his own birthday?"

She didn't have to imagine, her wedding anniversary affording her the same mixed emotions—happiness and regret.

She grabbed his arm. "You must stop this, David. Your father did what he thought was best for the both of us."

"No, he did what was best for him. I don't think either one of us factored into it. He did the wrong thing, Mom, and now you can't bring yourself to move on."

"That's not true, he didn't know of the ritual and I never told him."

"He lived on Minbar for nineteen years, for Valen's sake. There's a ritual for every blasted thing. You mean to tell me it never occurred to him that there was a ritual for what was to come. He could've set you free, instead he left you in a state of limbo, unable to go back or forward."

"You must stop blaming your father," she said, tightening her hold on his arm. "I never told him about the ritual."

"And he never asked. He should've known. He only thought of himself; he never thought how you would manage without him, what it would mean for you to be alone for so many years."

She turned from him then, not wanting him to see her cry. Delenn didn't blame John, she could never blame him. She didn't want the ritual, not then, not now. Yet, there was the future, her future. And then there was Chimir, her past. Could he be her future?

Delenn felt two strong arms on her shoulders, then loving lips on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't seek you out for this. It's just . . . just . . . I hate to see you unhappy and I think Chimir could make you happy if you would give him a chance. You don't have to admit it, but I know there's some old business between the two of you. If you ever cared about him as a man, even a little bit, maybe it's worth pursuing, see what the universe has in store for the two of you."

He squeezed her shoulders, his embrace firm but gentle.

"I know I blow my top when it comes to Dad and his final months and days, but I miss him too. I will never forget him; so much of what I am today is because of him. Whenever I feel a sense of loss or am far away from home, I listen to that message he made for me when he first moved to Minbar. He told me to look to you for wisdom and fire; that you would be my biggest ally and I could talk to you about anything."

She turned to face him, no longer concerned with hiding the stream of tears.

"He was right, of course."

He stroked her face, wiping away her tears.

"For once, accept my wisdom. Keep Dad in your heart, cherish your memories of him, but perform the ritual and set yourself free. Not for Chimir, not for Susan, not even for me, but for yourself."

He covered her with his tall, solid frame, his resilient chest absorbing her tears. She didn't know if she could do what he asked, but for the first time in seven long years, she prayed for the courage to do what needed to be done.

"It's time we had a funeral."

She nodded. "When you return."

"Good, that'll give you a month to prepare, less if I push the crew."

"I'll be ready."

He hugged her once more and then stepped back, his features as solemn as her own.

"We can do this," he said, moving towards her office door.

Delenn wiped the remaining moisture from her eyes, feeling emotionally spent.

"Be safe, David," she said when he pushed the door further open.

He covered his heart with his right hand and gave her a deep bow before turning to leave.

A soft, "Love you, Mom," floated to her ears, warming the air as he made his leave.

_Love you too, son, my heart, my soul._

**Part 3**

John Sheridan staggered down the hall of the Alliance building, his mind unable to focus. He wanted to take Delenn out for lunch; in fact, he'd been looking forward to it all morning. The last week had been nothing short of wonderful. He'd not only taken her to the Botanical Gardens but she'd accepted his invitation to one of Minbar's many annual festivals and a dinner the night before.

His plan was proceeding nicely, the tension he'd felt from her the first night was slowly, cautiously abating. He was hoping to use the lunch as an excuse to bring up the possibility of a second night of watching. Then he had overheard them.

He didn't mean to pry. John intended to knock on her office door, but it was already ajar, voices wafting into the deserted hallway. He never realized, but Minbari had excellent hearing, far superior to Humans, the size of the ear clearly unimportant. Yet, he'd given anything to have had normal Human hearing at that moment. It would've spared him. He had no idea.

_Damn, my son hates me. _

Mindlessly, John rounded a corner.

"Ouch."

He looked up and a very annoyed Susan Ivanova was staring at him, rubbing her nose.

"Ah, sorry, Susan, I didn't see you there."

"Obviously." She looked around. "What are you doing here? Stupid question, you're here to see Delenn."

"Actually," he said, straightening his uniform. "I'm here to see you."

"Me?"

"Yes, I need to talk and you're my best and only option."

"Me?"

"You're repeating yourself, Susan."

She frowned at him then, crossing her arms in front of her chest, eyebrows arched.

"Since when did you start referring to me simply as Susan? We're not exactly friends, Shai Alyt Chimir. Your familiarity is a bit off-putting."

John didn't have time for this little bout of defiance. He needed to talk and he wanted Susan just to shut the hell up and listen.

"You were born in St. Petersburg, Russian Consortium, in 2230. Sophie, your mother, committed suicide when you were a child, which you blame on the Psi Corps. She was a telepath who refused to join the Psi Corps and, as a result, was forced to take telepathy-inhibiting drugs regularly. The powerful depressant effect of these drugs gradually drained her energy and eventually led her to take her own life. You're a latent telepath and once lived in fear of discovery by the Psi Corps.

Your brother, Ganya, died during the Earth-Minbari War. He was a fighter pilot aboard the Earth Alliance warship _Lexington_ and was killed in the battle with the _Black Star_, the Minbari's flagship. Due to your telepathic abilities, you were able to sense your brother's death despite the vast distance between the two of you."

Her face dropped, as did her mouth.

"Must I mention Talia and Marcus or can we go to your office now and talk?"

Anger then confusion flared in her eyes, but she held her tongue, cloak swinging as she turned in the direction of her office.

_Good__, I've got her attention. Now what?_

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	8. Chapter 8: Eyes to the Soul

**Chapter 8: Eyes to the Soul**

Ivanova sat behind her desk, fingers laced, eyes tracking the nervous Minbari, waiting for him to either sit the hell down or say what was on his mind. After coming into her office, the only thing he'd managed to do was pace and five minutes watching him do so, going over every calming prayer Delenn had taught her, Ivanova's patience was at its end.

She didn't like the knowing way he'd addressed her earlier, and she most certainly didn't appreciate the knowledge he had of her family and the way he used it to weasel his way into a meeting with her. His strange behavior of late hadn't passed her discerning eyes and his actions today only served to raise her alert level to red.

This was the man she'd convinced Delenn to spend more time with, to consider as a possible mate, a husband. Had she judged him so incorrectly, she wondered, glaring at him as he seemed to be battling an unseen foe.

It had taken her awhile to get used to living and working among the Minbari, her time on Babylon 5 critical to understanding the inner workings of their culture. Their rituals, customs, and beliefs could be quite complex, but underneath it all, they were a very straightforward, simple people, who rarely deviated from their assigned roles in society. Everyone had a place and everyone knew their place and acted accordingly. A complex society with uncomplicated people, so very different from Earth, from Humans, Ivanova concluded years ago.

If anyone would've told her during the years of the Earth-Minbari War that she would be a welcomed and respected citizen of Minbar, she would've checked them for fever and called a shrink. But she was and she couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the universe. This was her home, had been for the last seven years, Delenn and David her family. And if Shai Alyt Chimir thought to disrupt her little piece of heaven with his strange behavior, he could just think again.

"Why don't you tell me what that little show you put on in the hallway was all about?" she said, her voice sharp, agitated. Ivanova didn't care, she wanted clarity, to know if the man she'd thought so perfect for Delenn was a psychopath who couldn't keep his shit together. Perhaps that was why Delenn had been taking it so slow with him. Maybe she knew something about the warrior castemen that she didn't. Or maybe something else entirely was going on here.

Shai Alyt Chimir gave her a dubious look, his wildfire eyes scorching her with their intensity, making Ivanova feel as if she was looking into a solar eclipse.

He made one more trek around her office and then sat, taking one of the plush white chairs in front of her desk. He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on every inch of the place, nodding with indefinable appreciation.

"You haven't changed the place much. The colors are a bit more subdued than I last remembered, white and blue instead of dark brown and green."

He surveyed the room again, another agreeable smile reaching his lips and eyes.

"The light, airy colors suit you, Susan. When Delenn had this office, it was filled with delicate crystals and beautifully arranged silk pillows, and that suited her personality as well. I guess we've all put our own little stamp on the place."

Okay, now this was just getting weird. The thought of calling in a shrink was looking more and more like a good idea. How could she have misjudged him so completely? If he wasn't already crazy, he was driving down that road full throttle. And she'd be damned if she allowed him to take Delenn with her. She'd really screwed this one up and now she had to fix it. Shai Alyt Chimir had to go, even if that meant she'd have to go toe-to-toe with the leader and most respected person of the Warrior Caste.

"I don't appreciate having my family history dug up and thrown in my face," she said, going for calm, but the tapping of her fingers on the glass desk betrayed the image."

Chimir settled further into the chair, his hand coming up to his head as if he would run it through something, something like hair. That was ridiculous, Ivanova thought, ignoring the weird movement and the sudden shock that traced his features, his hand abruptly stopping. He looked at it as if he was unaware of what he was doing, and then he spared her a glance. Awkwardly, Chimir lowered his hand, placing it firmly on his knee.

"I could think of no other way, Susan, for you to take me seriously. Perhaps if my mind wasn't so confused, I could've approached this whole thing differently. I don't know," he said, a deep sigh that knocked at Ivanova's heart escaped him.

"I don't know anything anymore. I thought I could do this, that it would be easy. I was wrong. It's much harder than I thought. I had no idea, no idea what I'd done."

He appeared so lost, hopeless even. Ivanova had never seen him like this. Hell, she'd never seen any Minbari, especially one of the Warrior Caste wear his emotions so freely. Such vulnerability in the presence of a non-clan member was simply not done. Even Delenn, after all these years of friendship, still donned her mask when it suited her, when she felt most emotionally raw, fragile. Ivanova understood that, but this with Chimir, she didn't. She had no answer, only questions.

She leaned forward, the pull to get up, come around her desk, and sit next to him, strangely strong. She refrained, fighting the unexplainable urge to give comfort. Instead, she said, "What have you done, Chimir? What did you think would be easy?"

In an indescribable flash, Chimir's eyes changed from a deep brown to the warmest of gray, the color of home, protection, and friendship. And when Ivanova blinked, trying to refocus her disbelieving orbs, they were gone. She blinked again, only seeing brown. No gray, no home, no friendship, just two sad brown specks peering dazzlingly at her, mouth open, prepared to speak.

"I died."

The voice was barely audible and for a minute, Ivanova convinced herself Chimir had said something else. What that something else was, she didn't know. But it had to be something else or Chimir was further down that crazy road than she originally thought. Ivanova suddenly grateful Delenn hadn't made that leap of faith.

"Considering that you're sitting in my office, looking as healthy as me, I think it's safe to say that you aren't dead. I don't allow zombies or resurrected warriors in this building."

Admittedly, she knew nothing of psychiatry and doubted her sarcastic words were the right approach in what was obviously a delicate situation, but Chimir was spooking her out. And to make matters worse, guilt was riding her ass like a son of a bitch. She'd given Delenn so much grief about letting go and finding love with someone else, that she virtually forced Chimir down her unwilling throat. And now, here he was talking about having died, looking as sad and pathetic as any dejected lover or loony bin candidate. Thank God Garibaldi wasn't here to see this; he'd never let her live it down.

"Perhaps it was a bad idea turning to you, but I have nowhere else to go, no one else I can talk to, who would understand."

"I don't understand, Shai Alyt Chimir. I have no freakin clue what you're talking about."

"I know I must sound like a maniac, a crazy man, but I'm not."

He stood again, turning to face the wide window, shoulders slumped as if a terrible weight was pulling them down.

"Minbari believe," he started, his back to her, his eyes fixed on the garden below her window, perhaps even further away than that.

"Minbari believe that when they die their souls are reborn into new Minbari, a new generation, the future."

This Ivanova knew, but that knowledge didn't help her follow Chimir's train of thought.

"That's what happened with me. Well, sort of. For a time, just a little while, I was given a second chance, a new life, in a new body."

Chimir turned to her then and the gray eyes were back, stronger this time and they didn't disappear when she blinked three successive times, forcing back the unbidden thought, the one that said the impossible was possible and standing in her office.

"I failed to go beyond the rim, Susan, the way I should have. I stayed and now, by some First One miracle, I'm back to set things right between me and Delenn."

"What are you saying?" she asked, knowing the truth, those gray eyes staring with intense familiarity, her throat inexplicably dry, mind whirling in rebuttal.

Chimir gently grasped her frigid hands, took them into his own, and said, "I remember when I first arrived on Babylon 5 you came running around a corner to meet me all flustered. The first thing you offered to do was show me the facilities and all my nervous mind could conjure up was a long, boring story about the fresh oranges I had eaten on the transport to the station. I had no idea how much my life would change with that reassignment. How all of our lives would be permanently altered, the hands of fate putting us in the right place at the right time."

He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed her clutching fingers, his smile widening, an impossible dimple forming in the Warrior castemen's face.

"John," she murmured, her vocal chords constricting, her eyes trying to see past the physical and to the heart, the soul within.

Perhaps she was just as crazy as him for even entertaining the idea. But she _was_ entertaining it, hell, she was doing more than that. It would explain his suddenly odd behavior, the weird reaction he'd had to Delenn when she'd invited him to dinner. Hell, at one point, Ivanova thought she would have to peel him off of Delenn, so fierce and long was his embrace. She didn't understand it. But now, crap, it all made a weird, they should be locked in a padded cell, kind of sense.

"How can this be? It isn't . . . shouldn't be possible."

Yeah, she was infinitely grateful that Garibaldi wasn't here to see that she was a few clowns short of a circus, John Sheridan the ringleader. God help her, he was back from the dead.

She heard herself repeating 'How' and 'Why' questions, finally dropping into the seat vacated by Chimir. Not Chimir, she reminded herself, but John.

Ivanova listened to his tale, her mouth open, eyes wide, heart pounding, mind reeling. In the end, she couldn't deny it. He may not look like the John Sheridan she knew, but the words, the thoughts, and all too Human behavior was all John. And when it was all said and done, she couldn't help but hug him, fresh tears falling onto his strong, broad shoulders.

She wiped at her face, embarrassed, but unable to keep the flood at bay. Ivanova had missed him, her mentor, her friend, more than she would admit to anyone. And the sad, ironic truth, was that in his death he gave her something she hadn't had in a very long time—a family.

After Marcus' death, she was adrift, awash in guilt, surrounding herself in solitude, and stale, emotionless work. All the fire she felt while serving as lieutenant commander of Babylon 5 no longer burned for her, no longer fueled her wandering heart, her lost soul. But John had given her life renewed purpose—a chance to serve the Alliance, to build bridges, but most importantly, to hold and protect his family. Her charge, her honor, she thought, a second chance for her, a second chance for him.

"So what happens if you can't convince Delenn to finish the other two nights of watching and to go through with the Shan'Fal?" she asked, their hands linked, neither willing to let go of the other, their bonds of friendship impenetrable.

John shrugged, appearing small and fragile. "If I don't convince her to sever our connection, then my life energy will cease to exist. I've held on too strongly to my past life and this is my last chance to make things right . . . for the both of us," he finished.

"Lorien gave you this opportunity?"

"If one can consider being tasked with convincing my wife to forget about me and take another into her heart, into her bed, is an opportunity then, yeah, I guess so."

His words were brittle even resentful. But Ivanova knew exactly what his death had done to Delenn, her battle to keep going, to not give into the urge to follow him into her own premature death. The first year was the worst, Delenn falling into an abyss so wide and dark that neither she nor David thought Delenn would ever find her way back to the light. Yet she had, God bless her stubborn Minbari soul, she had. And as much as Ivanova loved John, she refused to have him or anyone else set Delenn back. She couldn't handle losing him again.

"Do you plan on telling her?"

His eyes watered, hope tinged with fear peering back at her.

"I want to tell her. I want to tell them both. I have so much explaining to do and I can't do it if they believe I'm Chimir."

He finally released her hand, swiping at the stray tears.

"I really messed things up before I died. I never realized until today how royally I screwed up."

"I don't understand."

He sniffed, started to stand, then sank back into the chair as if he had no energy to spare.

"I overheard them talking. David was so angry with me, angry that I didn't call him home before I left on the White Star, angry his mother was by herself."

Ivanova knew this, she being the one to finally inform the new Ranger. She was also at their home when David arrived and went in search of his mother. He found her huddled on her bed, clutching his father's pillow, shaking uncontrollably, murmuring a prayer in her language, David's language. And all the young man could think to do was cuddle up behind his traumatized mother and hold her, his own tears soaking her hair, an apology on his lips for not being there for her. Yeah, unpleasant times in the Sheridan household, ones she wouldn't allow to return.

"I know you wanna make amends, John, but I suggest you think long and hard before you reveal your secret to either one of them."

He gave her a frown and started to reach for his head again, clearly forgetting he was no longer in his own body and had no hair through which to run his nervous fingers.

"I need to speak to her honestly, to explain. I don't think she and Chimir are close enough yet for her to continue with the mating rituals, least of all the Shan'Fal."

There were so many things she could've said to him, truths he needed to hear but his pain was as evident as Delenn's. Clearly, the past seven years, wherever he was, in whatever form, he'd suffered, he'd known his loss and it was cavernous. Who was she to wag her finger, past judgment on his final months and days? At the time, he did what he thought was right, no matter that she disagreed with him, the consequence of his short sightedness more than likely the reason for his return, the reason why he didn't . . . couldn't go beyond the rim. And definitely the reason why Delenn found it so difficult to let go, move on.

And she most definitely wouldn't share her thoughts on the relationship between Delenn and Chimir. Not the current, fledgling one, but the older one Ivanova was convinced occurred before Delenn came to Babylon 5. How much before and to what extent, she didn't know. But she was certain they were once romantically involved, David having drawn the same conclusion. Sheridan wasn't ready for that truth and she wouldn't be the one to lay it on him.

"John," she said in her most soothing voice, "if you are here for a limited time, it probably wouldn't be the best move to let Delenn and David know. Their happiness at having you back will be short lived."

"I know," he admitted, sounding so very tired and defeated. "But I did them a great dishonor, one I can't fix as Chimir. I need to make things right. I have to see her."

He jumped to his feet, a surge of reserved energy seeming to bolt through him, giving him power and purpose.

Ivanova leapt to her feet as well, quickly taking hold of his arm before he reached the door.

"Umm, Delenn, has to travel to Yedor today. The Worker Caste clan leaders have asked to speak with her." She made a show of looking at the chronometer, and then said, "Her transport should be arriving any minute now."

"When will she return? Yedor isn't exactly around the corner."

"A couple of days, maybe longer," she lied. She needed time, time to convince John to keep his mouth shut, time for him to see how utterly selfish he was being. And, if need be, time to prepare Delenn for the shock of her life.

John grunted then sighed. "I really wanted to get this over with. I want to . . . to . . ."

The lost look reappeared and for a moment, Ivanova felt guilty about lying to him. He was obviously still so in love with Delenn and the irrational part of him thought they could simply pick up where they'd left off seven years ago. And if he had returned as he was then, given a true second chance, that would probably be the case. But the husband Delenn knew hadn't returned and the part of him that did resided in a man she was once romantically involved with. And even that state was temporary.

The whole damn thing was convoluted and annoying as hell, Ivanova regretting getting up and coming to work today. This was turning out to be a wonderfully shitty day and it wasn't even ten o'clock yet.

_Why me?_

"John," she said, gentling her grip on his arm, "Delenn can't take losing you twice. Unless you can stay and be the husband she wants, she deserves, then it would be best to say nothing. In the end, you'll just hurt her if you go away again. I'm sure you don't want that."

His head dropped, his shoulders drooping again. He shook his head and then raised beseeching eyes to her.

"I want my family back. I want to be able to hold and kiss Delenn and let her know how much I love her, how much I've missed her. Is that too much for a man to ask, Susan? Is it? Is it?" he repeated in a low imploring tone.

"No," she replied, her words just as low, heart even lower.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek the way her brother used to do when she was but a skinny tomboy with braces. "I've missed you as well, Susan, and you never did have much of a poker face. I don't know how you managed the Voice of the Resistance but I appreciate the sentiment."

He moved to the door, and without turning said, "I won't go to her today, or even tomorrow, if you wish, and I will give your words considerable thought before I make a final decision."

He turned the knob, prepared to leave.

"But," Susan said, feeling she was missing somethng.

He turned then, gave a misplaced John Sheridan smile on a Minbari face.

"But, she's my wife and I want her back. And I'll do anything, go through anyone, fight any battle, to make that happen. I'm home and I plan to stay."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	9. Chapter 9: Revelation

**Chapter 9: Revelation**

It had been three days since John revealed himself to Susan and he had yet to make good on his promise to share his secret with Delenn. And to make matters worse, Delenn had made no effort to see or speak with him, or rather with Chimir.

Now, John found himself sulking, walking around Chimir's airy home trying to convince the Minbari to share his thoughts on Delenn. He'd been going at this since Lorien first plopped him in the man's body. And Chimir was indeed an open book, allowing John to seamlessly infiltrate his Warrior Caste world with nary a raised brow from his caste or clan. But when it came to Delenn, that very open book was sealed tighter than Queen Elizabeth's chastity belt.

Time was also running out and he'd yet to think of a way of staying in his host's body, making it somehow work with Delenn who, when she looked at him, only saw Chimir, an old friend. And then there was David. How in the hell was he going to fix that problem? He'd left several data crystals for him, the last one made the night before he left for the Coriana system. Surely, that would've explained everything.

John scratched his face thinking, making his tenth trek around Chimir's living room, the crystal windows letting in the alluring noon sun. David didn't sound like he'd seen the data crystal and if that was the case, then his anger, his confusion, would be understandable, John thought, bumping into the same low table for the fifth time. Where in the hell was the data crystal then? Why wasn't it in the box with the others?

Tired of thinking and frustrated with his lack of progress on the Delenn front, John dropped on the nearest piece of furniture, a black high-back reading chair with matching ottoman. The ottoman got the same treatment, John's booted feet coming up to rest upon the sturdy square.

He closed his eyes and a vision of the full Minbari Delenn drifted into his consciousness. And this was his other problem. Chimir's images of Delenn blurred with that of his own. In fact, when John slept his dreams weren't always generated by him. More often than not, he lived Chimir's dreams and Chimir dreamed as much about Delenn as he did. But the dreams revealed only bits and pieces of a past the two shared when Delenn was much younger. Even in his dream state, Chimir managed to filter what he wanted John to know about their relationship, which only made him wonder what exactly the Minbari had to hide.

Tired of waiting around and doing nothing, John jumped to his feet. He was wasting time he didn't have. He needed to see Delenn, explain everything, see how she wanted to handle his return, and what thoughts she had on smoothing things over with their son.

He took another step and stopped, a massive blue and gray ball of light materialized in front of him, blinding him with its sparkling rays. Shielding his eyes, John slowly moved away from the ball, finding shelter behind the chair he just vacated.

The ball fluttered, turned completely white then disappeared and before him stood . . .

"Lennier, is that you? How is this possible? you're dead."

"So are you, but here we both stand."

John stood from his crouched position, feeling like an idiot for hiding from a ball of light containing his wife's long dead aid.

"Is Lorien responsible for you being here? Will he be arriving in his own ball?" he asked sarcastically.

"They sent me to speak with you, Sheridan," Lennier said, appearing the same as John last remembered, the day he tried to kill him, decked out in his Ranger uniform.

John also remembered how Delenn had missed him, their bond of friendship, and her tears of grief when she'd learned of his death.

"Who is the 'they' you refer to, Mr. Lennier?"

"I always wondered what made you so special," he said, instead of answering his question. He glanced around the room, eyes settling on the impressive view of Chimir's acreage, made possible because of the window-wall.

"I thought I would be able to return home before the end, make amends, find peace. I was denied even that."

His eyes refocused on him, and John tried to read the emotions there.

"You died for a good cause, Lennier, a warrior's death. And Delenn mourned you, honored you in her prayers, kept you in her heart."

Sadness. His eyes couldn't hide that emotion, not when Delenn's name was mentioned. How could he still be in love with her after all these years? Then again, who was he to judge? His love for her having not wavered an ounce since his own death.

"She deserved better. I could have been better, more of what she wanted."

"For god's sake, Lennier, that was almost three decades ago. Delenn never felt that way about you. I know you don't want to hear it, but we both know the truth. You were her aid, her friend, and nothing more."

"Because of you."

This was a conversation long overdue; one John never wanted to have because it would hurt Delenn. But death had a way of making a mind revisit some of its former positions during life. Perhaps if he'd confronted Lennier when he first realized the deeper feelings he possessed for his wife, the incident on the White Star wouldn't have happened. He'd forgiven him a long time ago, but that didn't mean he still wasn't pissed off that he tried to kill him.

"Not because of me. It probably makes you feel better to blame me than to admit Delenn never saw you as a romantic partner. She trusted you, relied on you, confided in you even when she wouldn't in me, but she never loved you as a woman would love a man, the way you love her."

Lennier's fist balled and John could make out another emotion—anger.

"And how does it feel for you to be in that position now?"

"Is that why you're here? Do you wish to see my pain at having my wife not recognize me and treat me as if I'm nothing more to her than a very dear friend?"

John sat in the high-back chair, looking up at Lennier. The man's face was hard, unforgiving even. Death had changed him or perhaps reaching for the unattainable for so long had simply drained him, leaving only resentment, sadness, and envy.

"I'm sorry for your pain, Lennier, but I won't apologize for falling in love and marrying Delenn. And if it makes you feel any better, I understand how you felt back then more than I could ever before, to want someone so desperately and not have that sentiment returned. It's not a good feeling. Not a good feeling at all."

"But you've been given a second chance."

John nodded.

"Why? What's so special about you, John Sheridan?"

Now he comprehended. John stood again, closing the distance between himself and Lennier.

"Even in death you haven't found contentment, come to terms with your fate."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you want this body, this opportunity."

He looked down and John knew he was right. How different and alike they were. Even in death, they both pined for the same woman.

"You've already had your twenty years with her, you deserve no more."

Perhaps he was right, but it wasn't for him to decide.

"She's my wife."

"Not anymore. You died and left her, while I stayed and watched over her."

"Is that why you're here instead of beyond the rim?"

"I've made my choice a long time ago. I promised to never leave her, to always be by her side."

"She didn't mean in death, Lennier. If she knew, she would be devastated."

What in the hell was going on here? None of this should be possible, yet here two dead men stood, arguing over something that was as old and tired as they were.

John turned confused eyes to Lennier.

"If you haven't gone beyond the rim, how is it that your life energy is still intact and you died before I did? Shouldn't you have dissolved or something . . . after all these years?"

"I can't explain it, Sheridan. They sent me and I am here."

_They?_

"Who sent you, Lennier, and why are you here? I don't have time for this trip down memory lane or to play games with you."

Lennier remained as rigid as any pole, his eyes strong, if not frosty.

"You cannot tell her the truth, Sheridan."

"And why the hell not? Did Lorien send you to tell me that? He could've spared me the drama and come himself."

"For whatever reason, the universe has decided to give you a second chance with Delenn's heart, but you must earn it."

"I've been trying to earn it, dammit, trying to save my immortal soul. It's not easy in the little time I've been given and in this body."

"It's not supposed to be easy and Chimir is the perfect vessel for the task."

"Why? Tell me why Chimir was selected and not someone else." He pointed his finger at Lennier. "You know, don't you?"

Lennier looked down again then returned his gaze to him.

"He loves her."

"I know that. Tell me what I don't know."

Lennier hesitated, the panoramic view catching his eyes again, making John want to hurl himself off the nearest cliff.

"Like you, later in her life," he began, his eyes piercingly clear, "he was the second half of her soul. He came first."

John stumbled back, falling onto the ottoman.

Lennier smiled. "Did you think she loved no one before you? You mated twice before Delenn—warrior and worker."

This couldn't be true, Delenn would've told him. Then he grimaced, he hadn't told her about Lochley, that lie of omission being their first fight as a married couple. But Chimir and Delenn never married, that he knew for certain.

"So, why didn't they become mates?"

"I don't know; that was all they told me, all they said I needed to know."

"So, there's more?"

"My mission was simple, Sheridan. You mustn't tell Delenn the truth. You have to earn her affection in the time allotted or . . ."

"Or what? Lorien already told me what would happen if I fail to convince her to finish the sleep watching and perform the Shan'Fal. What more is there, Lennier? What else aren't you telling me? Who's the other puppet master?"

"I've said all I've come to say."

The blue and gray ball of light came again, spreading its rays throughout the room, Lennier's voice a hollow message in the distance. "They think you're special, have a destiny. If you love her, for once, proceed like a Minbari and not a selfish Human."

The light blazed brighter, burning John's eyes, and then it was gone.

The room was cast in darkness, the sun having turned in for the night, John missing the entire day. Where had it gone? His talk with Lennier felt like minutes, not hours.

He staggered to his feet, the pull of fatigue heavy, the weight of Delenn's secret even heavier. John started to make his way to his bedroom, stopping in the hallway when he heard the doorbell. He swore; he probably missed a meeting while listening to Lennier's jealous tirade, the Warrior Caste keen on diligence.

Walking in a fog of whirling thoughts, John mindlessly opened the door without first looking at the security cameras. Agitated, he swung the doors open.

"Your housekeeper said you've been locked in your living room all day. I know the life of a caste leader can be daunting, but I hope you're not too busy to have dinner with me."

"Delenn."

She smiled and bowed and then those damn unbidden images and memories came again, flooding his mind—a man and a woman in a room, on a slanted bed, bodies entwined, making love. Next came the voices, her voice, so clear and familiar. She was looking at him, speaking to him, her hands on his chest, his arms. But, no, John knew this wasn't right. It wasn't him who was sharing her bed, smelling of their recent coupling. It was Chimir who had just made love to Delenn and this was his memory. And John was forced to watch another man's intimate memories of Delenn, his waking nightmare.

_"When is your cruiser leaving?"_

_"Four hours."_

_"We don't have much time left then."_

_"No, the war is upon us and I must lend my pike to the cause. I will miss you, my love."_

_"I will miss you as well, Chimir, but it isn't too late to change your mind, to stay here with me."_

_"We've discussed this, Delenn, my place is with my clan; your place is here. Just because you're Satai now, I won't have you protecting me from my duty."_

_"I wouldn't think of it. I just . . . don't want any harm to come to you."_

_"No Human can harm me as long as I have your love. Do I, Delenn?"_

_"Yes, Chimir, I love you with all that I am, all that I will ever be."_

_"And once this is over, I will return for you and we will begin the mating rituals. "Now, my love, I only need one hour to prepare. Let's not waste the other three talking."_

The waking nightmare faded to black, then John's head raged with sharp knife like pain to the base of his skull. He took two steps back, felt his legs give. Delenn reached for him, but it was too late. He was falling, crashing. Words of old rang in his ears before the shadows closed in on him, pulling him under. "If you fall, I shall catch you."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	10. Chapter 10: Barriers and Breakthroughs

**Chapter 10: Barriers and Breakthroughs**

Chimir felt weightless, as if he was being lifted on powerful wings, a graceful wind carrying him forward to a place he should know, recognize. Slowly and with much effort, he parted his lids, fading pain the reward. He blinked once, twice, and then a third time.

He had to make sure. He opened his eyes wider, taking in his surroundings without daring to move. It was dark, save for a glimmer of light off to his left somewhere. His body told him he was laying on a bed, the feel and smell letting him know he was in his bedroom.

_But how? What happened?_

Then a sliver of awareness prickled the base of his mind. A memory, many memories and one in particular.

_John Sheridan._

Yes, he remembered it all, the invasion, the anger, the confusion, the powerlessness. For weeks, John Sheridan had occupied his body, controlling his movements and thoughts, living as him. Anger began to swell but Chimir forced it away. Such raw emotions were futile. Besides, the ordeal wasn't over, the spirit of the dead man was still inside him.

Chimir gave a mental wince but it was no longer from pain. He'd fought to assert his will, to reclaim what was his. Yet, Sheridan remained, growing stronger each day he remained in his body. He was being taken over from the inside out and –to his dismay- there seemed very little he could do to control his fate.

However, there had been moments, a few timeless minutes in which he was the Captain and Sheridan the troublesome stowaway. He was back and in control. But for how long?

"You're awake." He knew that voice, a melodic sweetness, causing him to risk the pain he knew would come. He shifted, turning on his left side, taking in the form cast in shadow.

"Delenn," he said, her name coming out as a contented sigh, followed by a raised hand. "Come closer, I can barely see you."

"Lights at forty-percent," she ordered before walking toward him and taking his offered hand. "How are you feeling, Chimir?"

Her hand was soft and delicate in his own, his mind recalling the events of the last few weeks and how she'd slowly begun to open herself up to him. Then he had to fight a frown. It had been Sheridan to whom she'd bestowed all those smiles on, Sheridan who made her laugh, and Sheridan who would use Chimir's body to reclaim Delenn.

He must've been brooding for longer than he thought, Delenn's gently probing voice coming again. "Are you all right? I was worried when you collapsed."

She was closer now, the room better lit, her face beautiful, in spite of the worry in her grayish-green eyes.

"How did I get in here? You're definitely a force to be reckoned with," he said, trying to lighten his foul mood through humor, "but I doubt even you can carry a man my size."

She squeezed his hand, and then some emotion flickered in her eyes he couldn't decipher.

"The two Rangers Susan force upon me everywhere I go brought you in here. They each hoisted one of your arms over their shoulder, virtually dragging you into your bedroom, placing you on the bed."

Her free hand came to rest on his cheek, that same un-nameable emotion glowing now.

"I was very worried about you, Chimir. You appear in perfect health, but—''

She cut herself off, quickly removing her hand from his face. But he'd intercepted it before she could fully pull away from him. Chimir could name it now—fear. Delenn was afraid of . . . losing him? Could that be?

He trapped her hand within his, felt her tremble, and smiled. She was concerned about him. Apparently, very concerned, this pleased him. Perhaps, Sheridan hadn't won after all. Maybe he still had a chance, if only he could rid himself of his unwanted guest.

"I'm sorry if I worried you. I've been having the most annoying headaches for the last three months. They come and go, but I've never lost consciousness before." He paused, remembering the last time something like this happened, he woke up a prisoner in his own mind. But he couldn't exactly share that with her. No matter how he felt about the universe using him, he would do nothing to complicate Delenn's life. Besides, how could he possibly begin to explain such a disturbing set of events?

"Have you gone to see your personal physician?"

He grimaced, and then shrugged.

"Warrior Caste," she huffed. "Three months is a long time to experience such headaches, and now you're blacking out."

And the emotion returned, accompanied by a grave frown.

"Promise me you'll make an appointment with your doctor as soon as possible."

Another grimace.

"Promise me," she repeated, her grave frown turning fierce with determination. She wouldn't let this go.

He conceded.

"Good. Now, are you hungry? I could make something for you."

She was smiling at him now, her hand still trapped, but she didn't seem to mind.

He shook his head.

"I would rather you stay for another night of sleep watching." It was a hopeful request, one he'd had a lot of time to think about while watching Sheridan play him as only a bumbling Human could. Still, Chimir had to admit that Sheridan was nothing like the man he thought him to be.

While having a spiritual intruder literally forced down one's throat couldn't be classified as a lifestyle choice, Chimir had come to know all there was about John Sheridan. The man was as honorable and brave as any among the Warrior Caste. His memories were open and fluid in Chimir's mind, Sheridan unable to keep a single thought from him. And the man loved Delenn and David with a ferocity Chimir couldn't help but envy.

Whether he wanted to or not, Chimir understood Sheridan's motivations. He would do no less if he was given the opportunity. Still, he was his competition, his enemy. Sheridan had no place on this physical plane of existence. Not any longer, and Chimir's body was not for sale.

Reluctantly, he released her hand and sat up. "Well, Delenn, will you stay?"

"I've already stayed the night."

He gave her a quizzical look and she laughed ever so enticingly.

"You've been asleep all night. The sun will rise in," she glanced at the chronometer on his nightstand, "about an hour or so."

So she'd stayed the night. But had she watched? He was almost afraid to ask.

She laughed again, this time causing him to rise from the bed, taking her by the waist. The laughter immediately ceased, her eyes widening at their close proximity.

"Did you like what you saw, Delenn? Did my true face please you?" His voice was but a measured whisper, face turned down to her, body taut with desire.

She nodded slowly, eyes fixed on his. He couldn't look away, and apparently, neither could she. "Your true face was . . . was . . ." She paused and closed her eyes. "It's hard for me to explain."

"Please try, I would like to know." He drew her closer, their bodies touching from knee to waist. "I need to know. I've waited so long."

Still, the words didn't come. He'd never known Delenn of Mir to be at a loss for words, yet here she stood in his arms, mouth opened but no words coming out.

"Perhaps we should talk first," he said.

Chimir backed up and took her hand. He made his way to a black loveseat in the corner of his bedroom. He waited for her to sit, and then he sat next to her, Delenn giving him a curious gaze.

"I think I should say a few things to you first before you answer my question."

"We don't have to do this now, Chimir. It's very early and you should probably—''

"I didn't understand back then," he interrupted.

"Understand what?"

"You know what I'm talking about, the reason why the Religious Caste . . . why you . . . ended the war."

Her face paled at his words, the opening of a wound that had never healed properly, now about to be placed under a microscope.

"I would rather not discuss that time in our lives. It was so very long ago. Why bring it up now?"

The telltale signs of tension were there, although her face was now calm. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers tightly interlinked.

"I owe you an apology."

She started to shake her head in protest, but he grasped her shoulders, forcing her to let him finish. He gentled his touch, bringing his hands to rest on either side of her neck.

"The Grey Council, under your command, stopped the Earth-Minbari War. Just when we were about to take our final, glorious revenge, the Warrior Caste were told to pull back, to not attack the planet. We could have done it, Delenn. We could have destroyed them all for what they did to Dukhat."

That thought used to bring a warrior's smile to his face, such was the power of his clan, his caste, his people. But when the call for blood ended and the madness receded, the truth revealed itself—the acceptable death of trillions of innocent Humans for the actions of a few, for the life of one revered man. What kind of warrior could take pride in such a ruthless act of unjustifiable revenge?

"I know. It was madness and we almost didn't wake up in time." Her voice was calm, regretful, but her pulse raced under his fingers, his persistent touch.

"You were the one who woke us from the nightmare we had been living. But I was too angry, too confused, too consumed to see my way out of the bleak tunnel. We all were. None of the Warrior Caste understood and we resented the Religious Caste . . . resented you most of all."

His voice dropped at the admission, shame flooding his heart. His words to her then were harsh, but he felt righteous. He was the one betrayed. Betrayed by the woman he loved, the woman he intended to take as his mate.

_Fourteen years, Delenn. Fourteen years of spilled Minbari blood and you stop us a battle line from victory. Only a softhearted member of the Religious Caste could make such a foolish decision. You don't deserve to be Satai. You've tainted the very robe you wear, dishonored Dukhat's memory, and consigned us all to a fate worse than death. 'No mercy,' you cried. And we followed you, into the fire. But where was your mercy for our slain brothers? Whose side are you on, Delenn?_

"You refused to explain your reasoning and that enraged me all the more."

"And you refused to see or speak with me after that day. I didn't know how to make you understand without telling you the truth, the truth I had to keep. Our people weren't ready for that kind of truth back then."

She swallowed deeply before she next spoke, his hands still resting against her warm neck, pleased she hadn't shied away from the intimate touch.

"How did you find out? How long have you known?"

Chimir smiled, feeling her gulp back the other questions that seemed to be bubbling inside.

"I've known since the Starfire Wheel."

"That long, but how?"

"Somehow Neroon found out and he in turn told me. He thought I should know. I didn't realize he was planning on taking your place at the time. I was sure you were going to die, die before I had a chance to atone, to apologize."

She blinked back tears and he knew why. Neroon had saved her life, the life she was willing to give to bring an end to the civil war. It was the first time he'd seen her in years, and the first time he'd seen her since the transformation. He'd heard, of course, but he never understood, viewing it as her way of aligning herself further with Humans.

But he'd seen the Delenn of old that day, the woman he'd thought had abandoned her people and her faith at the Battle of the Line. She was physically changed, true, but her Minbari soul remained. Anger and delirium blinded him to the truth. He should've trusted her more and his warrior's pride less.

_The Religious Caste surrenders . . . ._

_Dukhat said that in every battle one side or the other must surrender eventually. It is the natural order of things. There is no shame in that, no shame. We recognize the superior forces of the Warrior Caste. We have, after all, spent several centuries arming you . . . helping you learn the art of combat. . . ._

_For a thousand years, we have guided our people through wisdom, not arms. Will we set that aside so quickly? . . ._

_This is where we chose our leaders before Valen. This is where many of us served and many of us died. The Ancients understood that in war it is always the young and the powerless who are sent off to fight. Sent by leaders and warriors and generals . . . who are not themselves engaged in the battle . . . who do not bleed on the frontlines . . . who do not die alone in the cold and friendless night. But here in this place, that changed. . . ._

_If the Warrior Caste has set aside the wisdom of Valen . . . if they wish to return to the old ways . . . then they must honor the laws set down by the Ancients. The leaders of each warring caste would step into the circle. The Starfire Wheel would open . . . and its fire would begin to consume them. Those who did not deserve to rule, would not sacrifice themselves . . . as they asked others to do on their behalf, would escape the fire. The sacrifice of the one who remained . . . who believed so much in his caste that he would lay down his life for them . . . that would determine which caste would be dominant among us . . . ._

_The Warrior Caste began the war. The Religious Caste has ended it. . ._

_And now we say, we are willing to endure the Starfire Wheel . . . for the good of our people. . . ._

_Valen said, 'Will you follow me into fire?' _

She stepped in and Chimir, for the first time, knew true fear. He bolted from the viewing chamber, crashing into stunned spectators, fighting to reach her. By the time he'd reached the lower level, it was too late. Neroon had sacrificed himself for Delenn, making the very declaration he himself should've made years ago. Chimir too had felt the calling of religion, Delenn his spiritual guide and confidant. Or she had been, before he abandoned her to his misplaced fury.

"Please don't misunderstand what I'm saying, Delenn. I forgave you long before I knew the truth. I accepted that while I didn't know why you made the decision you did, that you spared us by sparing the Humans. Our reborn souls may have been going into Humans, but the souls of Minbari would've been forever tarnished if we'd destroyed their Homeworld. We aren't Vorlons, we don't kill innocents. But in our madness, we would have."

"It's my fault." Her voice trembled and tears fell. "I watched you sleep that night you came to me after Dukhat's death. And what I saw was not your true face but the face I created with my murderous cry for 'No mercy.' Your sleeping face was hard, dark, and lost, nothing like the kind, gentle man I loved. I did that to you, to us all."

"You were one voice of many."

"I spoke without thought."

"You spoke from a soul drenched in senseless pain and death."

"And many died as a result."

"And you saved even more. Minbari and Humans were always meant to come together, first as enemies, then as friends. It took me a long time to come to that realization, and even longer to accept it as truth, as fate even."

Chimir then wondered of the fate that had sent John Sheridan to him. Why him? Why now? For how long?

Chimir wiped the tears from Delenn's cheek. He leaned in, lightly brushing his lips over hers. They were moist and salty from her tears, but also warm and ripe.

"Did my true face please you this time, Delenn?"

His heart thrummed a vicious, nervous beat, her lack of an immediate response doing nothing for his sanity. But when she finally spoke it was with great certainty.

"Oh, Valen, yes. More than I thought possible. Your true face is . . . beautiful, soul radiant and at peace."

"You think you took that from me, but the truth is that you gave it to me. I doubt if my true face back then would've been as untarnished as you believe. I was always trying to live up to the man my father wanted me to be. He never understood and I was too afraid to make him understand. But you, Delenn, you sacrificed all for a faith that knows no bounds in a universe full of limits."

He pressed his lips to hers again, a gentle pressure but nothing more.

"Where do we go from here, my love? Now that I know you watched me all those years ago, that makes three nights. Unless—''

"That night counts." A sheepish look crossed her face. "I guess I have a bad habit of starting the ritual without informing the male in question. Never mind," she said when he made to ask the obvious question.

"Will you then consider moving on to the Shan'Fal?"

He felt her stiffen and then relax.

"I must first complete the funeral rites before I make any decisions about my future. I can't consider moving on with you when I haven't even resolved things with John."

Delenn was correct. He understood the ritual to come and why it was needed. It should've happened a long time ago, but clearly Delenn hadn't been prepared to sever the last vestige of her marriage. Now she was and he would support her in any way she would accept. But that didn't mean he was ready to send her home just yet. John Sheridan would simply have to wait his turn.

"I'll wait until you're ready, if that's what you want. Is it, Delenn?"

Her eyes bore into his as if she was searching for a sign that the precipice looming before her would hold them both.

A sigh touched his mouth a second before her tongue tentatively ran over his lower lip, the petite hands on his shoulders pulling him forward. Now, it was his turn to stiffen, and he did.

His face must've registered his shock, for she stared at him warily.

"You asked me to continue the mating rituals with you, Chimir, but you must understand something about me first. I may still have a Minbari soul, but I'm no longer wholly Minbari."

"I can see that."

She gave a humorless laugh and shook her head. "The changes you can see are superficial—meaningful but incomplete. I am not the woman I was and much of who I am now is very much Human. I've had to come to terms with that over the years. Twenty years of marriage to a Human while living in a partially Human body impact one's actions and way of thinking."

"I'm not the man I used to be either, Delenn. We've both changed in many ways, but in others we haven't at all."

"I just . . . I need you to know what it is you're requesting. I want—''

"You won't shock me if that's what's worrying you."

"I think I already have."

Chimir's raspy laugh was his concession. "Well, I've actually never thought of using the tongue in that way. Is that how Humans kiss? with their tongue."

"Sometimes, but you didn't allow me to finish." Delenn gave him a wickedly challenging smile.

"Oh, so you aim to send me running by showing me just how Human you are; thereby, proving to yourself and me that no one other than Sheridan could possibly accept you for who you are?"

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed with the truth of his words. Chimir didn't want to hurt her, but she must be made to understand.

"I accept you for who you are, even when I didn't understand. Nothing you can do or show me will change that very real fact. I know you loved your mate, and I'm sure you love him still. But I also think you can love me again, if you would simply stop erecting pointless barriers to the slightest possibility. I can make you happy and I think that frightens you."

"Why would it frighten me?"

A grin slowly formed and his hands framed her face once more. "Show me how Humans kiss with their tongues, Delenn, and don't stop until I learn the lesson well."

With aching caution, Delenn kissed him and this time, he didn't recoil when her tongue grazed his lower lip. It slid from the left side of his mouth to the right, the texture smooth, inviting. She did it again and again, licking and nipping at his lower and upper lips, pulling them into her mouth and sucking.

He heard a deep-throated moan and realized, with manly shame, that it emanated from him. Chimir was wound as tight as a spring, all the blood draining from his mind to a much lower region of his body. Delenn's lips and tongue were intoxicating, her slim form molding to his as he wrapped his arms hungrily around her, encouraging her exploration.

Then her tongue was in his mouth and Chimir could do nothing but succumb to her expert probing. She tasted him in a way he didn't think possible, her tongue gliding over teeth, tongue, and gum. Delenn urged him to explore her as well, pulling him into her mouth with determined gentleness, a sensual moan coming from her this time.

She tasted of magnolias and lost love, long winter naps and hazy summer days. And Chimir yearned for more of the lesson, more of her. But she abruptly released him and stood, appearing as flustered and dazed as he felt.

He stood too.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but I should be leaving. I have an eight o'clock meeting and I must return home so I can shower and change."

He gave her a knowing, weak smile. One of these days she would kiss him and not feel guilty. But today wasn't _that_ day.

"Dinner?"

She shook her head. "I can't. David will be back in two days and I must have everything prepared for the ritual by the time he returns. I can't put this off any longer, for his sake as well as mine."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She smiled at him, her eyes bright and free of tension.

"You can call your doctor and schedule an emergency appointment."

"I meant—''

"I know what you meant. If you want to help me, then start taking better care of yourself. I don't want to lose you too."

She paused and Chimir knew she hadn't intended on saying those words, her scarlet face against her pale yellow robe making for the most delightful blush.

"You won't lose me," he reassured, taking her hand and escorting her to the front door.

They walked in silence the entire way, Chimir sensing the first tendrils of a headache. He knew the signs well now, his helmsmenship almost at an end, the stowaway rising from his place of slumber. But he still had time.

_Not yet, Sheridan. Valen, not yet._

Chimir opened the door for Delenn, battling the raging storm rushing to the fore, threatening to swallow him whole. He wouldn't go, not without a fight.

"Will you come . . . to the ritual," she clarified.

Unable to speak, he nodded.

"Good, then I'll see you in six days for the concluding ritual. Be well, Chimir."

"Be well, Delenn," he said, and just as she turned to leave, he spun her around, pulling Delenn into a heated kiss. Not one to let knowledge go to waste, Chimir coaxed her mouth with his tongue, as she'd done him, until she opened for him, granting him the access he desired.

His head felt like exploding thunderclouds but he ignored the pain, dousing it with the pleasure of Delenn's mouth, lips, and tongue.

Finally, he let her go and nearly stumbled. From the blinding pain or overpowering euphoria of having Delenn in his arms, he didn't know.

Impatiently, he waited for Delenn to stroll down the walkway and enter the transport, one of the Rangers helping her inside. And then she was gone, but the tingle on Chimir's lips where hers had been remained.

He slammed the door, sank to his knees, and yelled his frustration to the universe.

_This isn't fair._

_I know it isn't. I'm sorry._

_I want you to go away, leave me alone._

_This wasn't my choice._

_No, but it was your wish._

_True, I want another chance with Delenn._

_So do I._

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	11. Chapter 11: Giving Up

**Chapter 11: Giving Up**

"You have to find the data crystal for me. You're my only hope."

Susan Ivanova regarded her old friend carefully, although he looked nothing like the man she'd known for too many years to count. No, she was peering across her desk and into the pale, strong face of Shai Alyt Chimir. But it was John Sheridan who was speaking to her, making his request for the third time.

"How in the hell do you expect me to find one small data crystal after all these years?" she asked. "You don't even know what you did with it."

She uncrossed her arms and took a sip of her lukewarm coffee. It was bland and tasted of cooked dirt. Minbari really had no clue how to brew a good cup of joe, she thought. Tea they had down, but coffee . . . well, they tried their best to accommodate their Human citizens. But God, it tasted like swill. Susan took a healthy gulp, needing the fortification to deal with Sheridan. If she could stomach the wretched drink, she could most definitely clamp her mouth around the asinine predicament she now found herself.

"It must be in the house somewhere. I remember recording it only two days before I—'' He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and then crossed them again, all in less than thirty seconds, his angst evident and disturbing. "—before I boarded the White Star for Coriana 6, never to return . . . until now," he finished, uncrossing his legs but folding his arms in front of his chest.

Susan gave a small huff she hoped John wouldn't take the wrong way. This was day four of the funeral rites Delenn planned for the resurrected man sitting before her. Fasting and praying comprised the first three days. Delenn and David spending the majority of that time at Temple, Susan wading in the muck and mire of Alliance business, tending to arrogant, impatient ambassadors who couldn't seem to manage a potty break, not to mention trade negotiations, without the aid of President Delenn. Susan didn't know how Delenn kept it all together, or how John did it for that matter. Then again, Delenn and John always made one hell of a team.

And in two days time, the final rites would be performed, concluding the six-day ceremony. Susan wasn't looking forward to that day. As it was, it was all she could do to watch the sorrowful faces of her best friend and godson as they moved from one phase of the ceremony to another. While this ritual was seven years in the making, that fact did nothing to minimize the pain involved, including her own.

"Maybe Delenn stumbled upon it and threw it away, not realizing what was on it," John suggested, his voice somber, his eyes even more so. He'd been in this state from the moment he entered her office. This surprised Susan, for she was sure he'd be on cloud nine after learning—from Delenn—of the third night of sleep watching. Instead, he appeared as if he'd lost his proverbial best friend. She chose to ignore his solemn behavior. One crisis at a time, she told herself.

Susan shook her head. "No, Delenn threw nothing of yours away, John. Hell, it took me almost a year to convince her it was time to pack your things away." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Those were difficult times back then, Delenn fiercely holding on to any and everything that reminded her of John, refusing to relinquish the slightest physical reminder of him.

"So what did she do with my belongings?"

Susan smiled and shook her head. Damn, she had to be brain dead not to think of it earlier.

"If that data crystal of yours still exists, then it's probably in storage. One weekend when Delenn was off planet, David and I got the bright idea to box all of your things, thinking it would spare Delenn the pain of doing it herself."

John shifted in his chair, leaning forward, his pale face appearing gray now, eyes dark and dangerous.

"You two had no right to push her like that. If she wasn't ready to clear my things from our home . . . our bedroom, you should've let her determine when the time was right." His lips snarled the words and Susan took another drink of her swill.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't doing her a damn bit of good having a room full of clothing and shoes, and other things that reminded her of a life she would never have again . . . a husband who was dead. Three months of the silent treatment bordered on the insane but we all got past it."

In truth, it was like radiation treatment—necessary to kill the cancerous cells but inexorably painful with tremendous side effects. Delenn had gone ballistic when she'd returned home, and demanded everything be restored at once. It had taken all of Susan and David's resolve to refuse. Not only did they refuse to return the items, they kept the location of John's personal belongings a secret. That incensed her even more, making the next three months of their lives a nightmare, Delenn shutting them out and herself in. Tough love, yeah, and it hurt like hell.

John relaxed, his back returning to the chair, his eyes temporarily closing.

"What's going on with you, John? The last time I saw you, you were hell bent on telling Delenn the truth. Honestly, I'm glad you didn't, but she seems to be slowly coming around. She wasn't as haggard when she came back from Chimir's house a few days ago as she'd been when she watched him sleep the first time."

"It wasn't the first time," John said, his voice a resentful whisper. "She'd watched him sleep the night they became lovers."

_Oh, shit._

Susan wondered as much, but damn, in order for John to know this he must've—

_Holy crap. It's one thing to know the man who deflowered your wife, but it's something totally different to see him do it as part of a cruel memory._

"Is that's what's bothering you?" she asked, sensing there was more to John's foul mood than jealousy.

He shrugged, turning his face from her and to the open window. A small breeze must've taken pity on him, spreading its cooling fingers over his overheated face, caressing and gliding.

"It hurts, but I have no right to my pain. I wasn't a virgin when she married me and technically, she was. I was the only man she'd been with since her transformation." He conveniently left the second part unsaid, Chimir being the only man she'd been with prior to the crystalis. Two men, two bodies, but the same woman, and people wondered why Susan never married. Then again, she reluctantly admitted, unlike her, they weren't afraid to love, afraid to trust, afraid to try.

"Are you upset that she never told you about him?"

John returned his gaze, facing her with taut features. "I deliberately didn't share a marriage I was ashamed of with her nor did I give Delenn a list of the handful of women I'd been with prior to her." He shrugged again, broad shoulders causing the wings on his black Warrior Caste uniform to rise. "Why would I expect her to share an affair with me that was over well before she met me? especially one that went against acceptable Minbari behavior."

He shook his head as if trying to clear away an unwanted cobweb, his hand coming up to scratch at his hairless jaw. "Delenn never said or acted as if she was inexperienced, but I thought it all the same." John laughed bitterly. "Male Human arrogance I guess. What man doesn't like the idea of no other man having laid one lascivious finger on his wife? Ego, Susan, nothing but ego."

She didn't know what to say, but John filled the anticipated silence.

"I need you to find that data crystal for me. David deserves to know the truth, to understand I just didn't leave without giving him a second thought."

Susan pondered John's words and David's anger over his father leaving without contacting him, without making sure he was home with Delenn when John took his final flight. If she could help David find peace after all these years . . . well, she'd shred every box in the storage room to locate the damn crystal. But there was one problem.

"Once we finally told Delenn where we stored your things, she changed the lock and didn't give either of us the code."

"Hell."

"Exactly."

"So, how do you plan to get the code? Or do you plan to break in?"

"I know your head is literally hard now, John, but I'm not going to break into Delenn's storage room. She may have forgiven me for packing your things away without her permission, but I'll be damned if I violate her privacy like that again."

"So what are our options? I don't want her knowing the truth."

_Since when? _

"I'm going to tell her the truth," she said, pressing four keys on her video screen. She hit two more, cancelling her afternoon meetings.

"I don't want her to know that I've returned, Susan, not now, not anymore. I just . . . I just want them to finally be able to lay me to rest and move on."

What in the hell was going on with him? John had done a 360 in less than two weeks. There gotta be more to this than the data crystal.

"I simply meant that I'm going to tell her that I need to have a personal item of yours for the ceremony, which is true, as far as it goes. The last day of the service involves giving away something of value to you that reminds you of your loved one."

John gave her a doubtful look. "Why would something of yours be stored in a room with my things?"

"There isn't, but Delenn doesn't know that. When I moved to Minbar I used one of the vacant offices on the lower level of the Alliance compound to store some of my crap, you know, the stuff you think you'll use but never do. Anyway, when David and I decided to remove your things, we didn't want to move them far—"

"So you swapped my things for yours," he finished.

"Yes, but Delenn has never been inside to know otherwise."

"How do you know?"

"As hurt and angry as she was with me and David for going behind her back, she knew we did the right thing. The pictures, the clothing, the bed, it was all too much for her to cope with."

Abruptly, he stood, the wooden chair falling to the gray colored glass floor, the sound not as loud as the tremor of John's next words. "You put _our bed_ in storage. That was the first gift she gave me after learning Humans annually celebrated their wedding day. She said since I'd given up so much to move to Minbar with her, the least she could do was spend the rest of her days sleeping on a flat bed next to me."

He was seething now, his face no longer winter white, but summer red. Delenn had had the same reaction, but without the froth at the mouth.

"No wonder she didn't speak to you or David for three months. You had no right to strip everything from her out of some misguided notion of helping her." His words were ground out, hands balled into fists, legs shaking with the wrath of his anger.

Susan stood as well, but he didn't seem to notice, his words tumbling out like water from a leaking faucet.

"Delenn is strong in most ways . . . much stronger than I ever was. But in other ways, she's like a rare flower—beautiful to gaze upon but fragile. She feels deeply, much deeper than she leads on and she isn't impervious to pain. I know my dying left a huge void in her heart, her soul. But we played the hand we were dealt and when it was time for me to fold, I did, leaving her to play the next round without me." His eyes bore into her then, no warmth, kindness, or even friendship reflected back.

"I grieved for Anna almost to the point of denying myself happiness with Delenn. After four years I still hadn't gotten past her death but do you know what kept me going?"

Susan knew it was a rhetorical question so she kept quiet, not having heard John speak of his long deceased wife since marrying Delenn.

"I had pictures, letters, data images, and videos of her. Whenever I thought I couldn't go on, when the pain burned me from the inside out, I would find that keepsake box hidden in my closet labeled Anna. Liz and the others thought I was holding on too tight, that I should lock that small box away and never open it again. But they didn't understand."

John's tone softened but his body remained rigid and Susan's guilt grew with each word he spoke.

"Anna's belongings supported me when I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball and never get up. But you," he pointed at Susan, "you and David took that from Delenn thinking you knew what was best for her, thinking you knew better than her what she needed. Has it ever occurred to you that the reason she's found it so difficult to let me go is because you didn't allow her to do it in her own time? The more my sister and parents pushed for me to let Anna go, the tighter I held onto my memories of her."

The legs that had been standing strong, waiting impatiently to surge forward, slumped helplessly against her desk. Susan had been so positive that they'd made the right decision, that she and David were sparing Delenn the pain she seemed to be wallowing in. Now she didn't know. Hell, according to John, they'd only succeeded in bringing Delenn more pain, and possibly, stalling her recovery. She didn't know what to say except, "I'll find the data crystal for you and give it to David before the ceremony concludes. That's the least I can do."

"Thank you, Susan, I didn't mean to snap at you. I've . . . well, I've had a lot on my mind, too much for a dead soul like me to handle."

John crossed the small divide that separated them; his features infinitely tender and open, frightening Susan. It was Chimir's face but something about it reminded her of the dying man who'd asked her to stay and take care of his family. The body, the voice was different, but the eyes . . . well, they were cryptically identical and Susan was afraid to guess why.

He wrapped Chimir's thick, muscular arms around her, pulling Susan from the desk and into a bear hug she couldn't break even if she so desired. "Thank you."

Why did his thanks sound terrifyingly like a goodbye?

Before she could interpret all that had been said between them, John released her, his face an emotional mask. "Delenn told me she invited you to the concluding service."

John moved toward her office door without answering her. He opened it, and then glanced at Susan over his shoulder. "I won't be able to make my funeral, Susan. It's been wonderful seeing you again, but I don't think I have what it takes to convince Delenn to complete the Shan'Fal with Chimir. They have a history, closer than I would've ever imagined, but he's simply not the man for her."

"B-but," she stuttered, "you said you would cease to exist if you and Delenn didn't complete three nights of sleep watching and the Shan whatever ritual. You're halfway there, why give up now?"

"I have my reasons and they're mine, so don't ask."

Dammit, she wanted to ask. Hell, she wanted to scream and shake him into rational thought. But he hadn't been rational since walking into her office an hour ago. And an irrational, solemn John Sheridan was worse than the bullheaded, reckless one that ran off to Z'Ha'Dum and got himself killed, only to be resurrected with a twenty-year time bomb following him.

"You just can't leave Delenn again, not when she's starting to open up, allowing herself to feel again."

"Trust me, Susan, it's for the best." His goodbye eyes found hers and Susan's throat tightened. This was it then? For whatever reason, John was throwing his second chance with Delenn away, his soulful eyes dimming under the reality of his decision. "Find the data crystal and keep your promise. That's all I ask. That's all I'll ever ask of you again. Goodbye, Susan."

And then he was gone, her empty office mocking in its solitude. What in the hell was she going to do now? Susan stumbled into her leather chair, turning to the open window, the cool breeze slamming against her marble form. She felt nauseous, the bile of John's unfathomable decision slithering its way up her throat, the retching reflex strong. But she clamped her hand over her mouth, forcing it back down, along with her fears.

Susan stood, grabbed her coffee cup, and downed the grotesque brew in one long gulp. She straightened Valen's cloak and moved from behind her desk. She had a promise to keep and Susan would be damned if she screwed up this mission.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	12. Chapter 12: The Funeral

**Chapter 12: The Funeral**

**Part 1**

David Sheridan found an unoccupied prayer room within the temple. He entered; closing the heavy double glass doors behind him, and then—for additional privacy—slid the thickly woven blue and white draperies in front of the windows that bordered the doors. Once inside, he dimmed the lights and dropped his exhausted frame into one of the three all-white sofas, resting his head on an exquisitely white pillow with thin blue stripes.

He closed his eyes and slowed the cadence of his breathing, contemplating putting himself into a meditative state, but the small, pointy object in his left pants pocket jabbed him physically and emotionally. David shifted and removed the pale red data crystal from his pocket, palming it in his large hand. It had been almost twenty-four hours since Susan had given him the object and he still hadn't mustered the courage to view it.

"I thought I left a few of my boxes in the storage room. I was wrong, but while I was searching I found this," Susan had said, handing him a small box. Inside the black satin cube was a ruby data crystal and a handwritten note. The note was in his father's neat print and it said, 'To my son David, from your loving father.'

He looked at Susan questioningly, but she gave no further details as to how exactly she came to find such a precious gem after seven years or why she was truly in his mother's storage room. David remembered packing his father's things that notable weekend six years ago, blindly tossing everything in boxes without looking. He couldn't look or he would've been in no better shape than his mother. More importantly however, he recalled helping Susan clear out all of her items first.

That story she had told Delenn about leaving a box or two in the storage room as a means of procuring the code may have worked on his mother—who didn't know better—but the same couldn't work on him. He knew otherwise, and Susan had clearly forgotten. And why she would lie about such a thing made no sense at all. Yet, he'd happily—if not unnervingly—accepted the relished item, forcing back the urge to have a heart-to-heart with Aunt Susan about deception and half-truths.

Now, David stared at the crystal, and wondered how something so tiny and fragile could drown him emotionally. He had no idea what was on the device, and after seven years of lamenting—if not cursing his father—for not allowing him to be there in his final days, the answers may now rest in the palm of his hand. Yet here he sat—afraid, much like the man-child he'd been when he'd finally learned of his father's "Sunday drive."

David's eyes languidly swept the room and settled on a clear triangular device. He stood, and walked to the fireplace. Above the fireplace was a ledge on which a data crystal reader sparkled like a beacon of hope. Cautiously, he inserted the crystal into the reader and reclaimed his seat, not too proud to admit that a deathbed message from his father might weaken his knees.

"Play message for David Sheridan," he said, leaning forward on the sofa, elbows on his knees, eyes shimmering when his father's body suddenly appeared before him.

For a minute, all David could do was stare at the tall, bearded man. He wore a dark blue suit, one of many David grew up seeing him adorn—like a uniform—for Alliance business. Blue, black, and gray, those were John Sheridan's colors of choice in spite of living on a planet full of bright, vibrant shades of the intergalactic rainbow. David smiled and wiped at a stray tear. It had been too many years since he'd seen his father, his own grief preventing him from frequently viewing the three data crystals his mother had given him.

After learning of his father's death, David hastily packed and commandeered a flyer without his captain's permission. How he made it home safely he didn't know, the entire trip nothing more than a vague, dull blackness in his mind. And just as he was about to turn in for the night, his mother handed him a rectangular box not so different from the one Susan found in the storage room. This, however, he was expecting, for he knew his father had recorded a message to him the first night his parents moved into their new home. He'd always known one day he would receive that most treasured of gifts—the one his father made especially for him when he was nothing more than a whispered prayer his parents were too afraid to hope for.

"Hello, son," the strange yet familiar voice came, pulling David's attention back to the visual hovering only fifteen feet away. And then there was the smile, the one that tucked him in at night and woke him in the morning—the same smile that could melt an ice cap if it happened to be his mother's heart.

John sighed and ran a nervous hand through his graying hair. Unconsciously, David did the same, catching his hand mid-motion when it grazed his bonecrest.

"I thought . . . well, I hoped I had more time to do this properly. I wanted to see you one last time and I can't tell you how many times I started to contact Captain Briggs in spite of the rules against such interruptions for Ranger trainees."

One hand found his hair again while the other his pants pocket, a nervous habit David remembered well.

"I argued with myself over whether I should use my authority to break the rules for my son, to have your captain make that exception because of who your mother and I are and the power that that yields. But that's not who we are, how we raised you."

Another huff and sigh; both hands in pockets now.

"Honestly, David, this was a lot easier to do before you were born and I had twenty years ahead of me. Now, I have no more time left, and it hurts like hell to know there is nothing I can do to comfort you doing your time of need. I tried to make every moment with you count, unwilling to waste one precious second. We're both only sons, and with that comes a very special bond."

As his father spoke, David began to relax, releasing the tense neck muscles, allowing blood to flow unimpeded.

"I remember when I was about twelve or thirteen," he began, scratching his beard the way he tended to do when he was about to regale someone with one of his many stories, "I had this great German Shepherd who used to follow me everywhere—the barn, the lake, even to school one time." His father laughed at the childhood memory, making him look younger.

John sat, his form claiming a burgundy leather chair David hadn't seen in his haze.

"Anyway, one day old Max just stopped running, jumping, and playing. He lay around the house barely able to eat or hold his own weight. After a week of this, my old man, your granddad, took Max to the vet. The vet diagnosed him with some kind of spinal disease." He shrugged. "To this day I can't remember the name of the illness but it doesn't really matter. The vet said she could operate on my dog and his chance of a full recovery was less than ten percent."

John shook his head, scratching his beard again, and David found himself doing the same, recalling too late that his face was as barren as his Uncle Michael's head.

"Old Max was in a lot of pain and the chances were mighty slim, so Dad opted to put the poor guy out of his misery and allow the vet to put him to sleep. I remember begging and crying to ride with Dad to the vet. I had to see Max one last time before he was taken from me completely. Against his better judgment, your granddad agreed, permitting me to tag along. Till this day, I can still see his fading, weak eyes looking at me as he took his last breaths of life. And as much as I loved old Max, it's hard for me to think of him as he was before the illness without seeing his dead gray eyes."

David slid from the sofa to the floor, the thick white carpet cradling his somber form.

"You see, David, I didn't want to be old Max to you or your mother. I wanted the both of you to have happy, fond memories of a healthy John Sheridan, not a decrepit one slowly wasting away, dying in bed or at my desk. I don't wish to be remembered like that, the way I remember my first and only dog. You deserve more and while I have no more time to give you, I can give you that—my last gift. The only thing left I have to give you is my love, and that you've had since the day I learned I would be a father."

Weakly, David stood and walked toward the image of his father. He reached out, his hand going through the optical illusion, touching air instead of warm, soothing flesh.

"When you were eight, you wrote me a Father's Day poem which I carry with me everywhere I go."

John reached in his pants pocket and unfolded a worn sheet of paper.

"It's torn and fading, and most of the words are so light I can barely make them out. But that doesn't matter, I know each word by heart. This paper," he said, raising it, "is a constant reminder that while the universe took from me it gave me something so much more precious in return. It gave me you and I'll carry this keepsake with me when I depart this physical plane, hoping you'll understand and maybe even forgive me."

John folded the paper, kissed it, and gently placed it back in his pocket.

"While I'm no Edgar Allan Poe or Langston Hughes, or even a young David Sheridan," he said self-deprecatingly, "I have written something for you. And I hope it will carry you the way your poem has carried me."

John cleared his throat, while David suddenly felt a thump forming in his.

"Within your soul a fire burns

A love for King and kin

Stout of heart and courage too

Built to fight and win

Shoulders broad and mighty hands

To carry shield and sword

Armed with virtue and with truth

For service to your Lord

Dragon slayer await the call

To enter battles fray

To face the dragons of your time

To fight and win the day

But for now enjoy the dream

Of action, war and quest

And lay your sleepy little head

Upon my loving chest"

Blindly, David reached for his father again, walking through the electrical display just as his father whispered, "I love you, son, you're my greatest achievement, my hope, my pride, my faith. Be well, and I'll see you again where no shadows fall."

**Part 2**

David listened attentively as his mother delivered the prayer, her face eerily calm, as it had been throughout the day; reminding David of how she appeared to him when he'd first arrived home after his father's death. It was a shield then as much as it was today. But he didn't begrudge Delenn her staunch stoicism as he had as a young man too inexperienced to understand the necessity of such a safeguard for the heart, the soul, even one's sanity.

In honor of John Sheridan and his religious beliefs, Delenn recited the Lord's Prayer, the one John had taught David when he was but a tadpole of three. "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen"

David reached for his mother, grasping her hand in his, the temple empty except for the two of them and Susan, who was kneeling on the other side of his mother. This was a private family affair; one Delenn was unwilling to share with her clan, or friends of the Alliance. This was for them and them alone.

He spared a glance at his mother, her eggshell white robe matching that of his own, flowing down her arms, legs, and over bare feet. Even in the flickering light of the candles, he could make out too pale skin stretched over grieving features. David raised her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her palm.

"I can recite one of the prayers if you like, Mom."

She nodded and slid the oval crystal chest lined in silk in front of him. John J. Sheridan was emblazoned on the top of the box in gold letters and 2281, the year of his death under the name. Per Religious Caste tradition, Delenn had the small chest made to be used during the The'lathe'la closing ritual in which mourners place an item of sentimental value into the chest that represents their everlasting bond to the deceased. Once all items have been safely enclosed, the chest is normally buried with the deceased. However, when a body cannot be retrieved for proper burial, as is often the case in war, or vanished from the Coriana System like John's body, the Lathe'la, as the chest is known, is kept in a family vault. In this case, the Mir family vault located five miles south of Tuzanor. At the close of the ceremony, David would make the trek, on foot—per tradition—thereby honoring his father's memory through the acceptance of his passing and the understanding that life is transitory.

David peered inside the chest—a gold commander's bar, sparkling against the silk cloth. Ivanova's bar from her time as Commander of Babylon 5—that was her sentimental item, the sacrifice she was willing to make to accept her friend's death, wishing him well on a long overdue journey.

Still clutching his mother's hand, David reached into the pocket of his robe with his free hand and pulled out a plastic sleeve containing a card. The baseball card was from 1947 of Jackie Robinson, of the Dodgers, sliding into home plate. The day David had come home—at the age of six— crying because, some kids at school said he couldn't play with them because he wasn't a real Minbari; his father went to his drawer and dug out the card.

"Jackie Robinson was the first African American baseball player to play for the Major Leagues during a time in which people were treated cruelly and unfairly based on the color of their skin. Such prejudices were irrational and stupid then as they are today. But Jackie Robinson didn't let the bigoted views of narrow-minded people prevent him from being the best be could be, and achieving what many thought he couldn't. Being different, son, doesn't make you inferior. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Be your own man, light your own path."

Reverently, David slipped the card inside the chest, next to Ivanova's bar.

He closed his eyes and started his prayer.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
And sorry I could not travel both  
And be one traveler, long I stood  
And looked down one as far as I could  
To where it bent in the undergrowth;  
Then took the other, as just as fair,  
And having perhaps the better claim,  
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;  
Though as for that the passing there  
Had worn them really about the same,  
And both that morning equally lay  
In leaves no step had trodden black.  
Oh, I kept the first for another day!  
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,  
I doubted if I should ever come back.  
I shall be telling this with a sigh  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-  
I took the one less traveled by,  
And that has made all the difference."

He turned to see his mother facing him, eyes unreadable. That wasn't the prayer she was expecting, the one that came next in the ritual. For a minute he thought she would be upset with him, his mother not one to appreciate the slightest deviation from tradition. But then she smiled at him, the only way an understanding and loving mother could. She kissed his cheek. "A Road Not Taken by Robert Frost, John's favorite poem."

David gently lifted the chest and placed it back in front of Delenn. She stared at it for a very long time, he nor Susan venturing to interrupt. Her hand began to tremble before she removed it from his, a twinge of rejection flashing in him before it was quickly doused. This was something she had to do on her own—a transition that even a loving son couldn't take for her.

Slowly and with much care, Delenn removed first her engagement ring, and then her wedding ring. David gulped down his surprise. He wondered what his mother's sacrifice would be, but this, he never imagined. In fact, he'd never seen her without those twin bands. And there they lay, in her shivering hands, awaiting their fate.

Her perfect posture failed Delenn, slouching over the chest, hands on either side, head low, hair covering her weeping face. David made to comfort her, but a terse shake of the head from Susan stilled his movement, reminding him that this was his mother's battle to wage and win.

Her soft words broke through the unrepentant sobs. "May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rain fall softly upon your fields until we meet again, and may the universe hold you in the hollow of its hands."

Delenn dropped one ring into the chest. She still had the second part to recite, giving voice to the dead, a message to the living.

"I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Pray, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, Let it be spoken without effect; without the trace of a shadow on it.  
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was: there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well."

The other ring dropped and so did she, cradling herself in a ball crying, the way she often did in her and John's bed when she thought David was asleep in his room. And he did now what he did then, lay down beside Delenn, wrapped his arms around her, and wept, murmuring the only thing he could think to soothe her, "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief . . . and unspeakable love."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	13. Chapter 13: Precipice

**Chapter 13: Precipice**

**Part 1**

Delenn's bedroom was dark, save for two white candles on each nightstand. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar, a beam of light from the hallway a reminder that she wasn't alone in the house. No, thirty minutes ago she'd left David and Susan in the living room pretending to not be watching her for the slightest hint of emotional instability.

She exited the bathroom, ignoring the image echoed in the mirror. Delenn didn't want to know exactly how she appeared. She knew what she would see—red, puffy eyes and drab, pale skin. She'd also lost a few pounds this week, weight she could ill afford to lose. Yet another reason why she cast her eyes from the mocking glass, and why Susan filled Delenn's dinner plate with a volcanic explosion of food. By the time she tired of their hooded, worried glances, and urges to 'Eat as much as you can,' she was ready to burrow inside a black hole and disappear into blessed oblivion.

Delenn eased onto her bed, the flat, triangular pillow wedged comfortably under her head, the green, satin nightgown soft against her exhausted body. And she was tired, so very tired. Yet, she knew sleep wouldn't immediately come, nor had it since she began the ritual six days ago.

She crossed her hands over her stomach, entwining her fingers, rubbing them together, waiting for the cold, familiar sensation. They were gone. She felt again, searching for the sharp but delicate shape. Nothing. Gone. She'd given them away, and now . . . well, now her hands were bare, soul bereft. A trickle of awareness consumed her, tears threatening to drop.

Delenn began to gasp violently, the air inexplicably thick and toxic. One, two, three, four, five desperate breaths, and then a low shrill of pain held like a prisoner of war in her throat. She refused to submit, not now, not again. Valen help her, if she broke down again Delenn wasn't entirely sure she'd recover.

She relaxed against the incline, willing calm into her body, fighting the compulsion to run into the living room, rip the top open from the chest, and reclaim her rings before David made the pilgrimage to the Mir family vault. Her legs twitched reflexively, fingers balling into tight fists, nails digging into innocent flesh. Delenn gulped, her mouth dry, head pounding with tension, causing her to question whether she would survive what she'd done.

_It's for the best. You must let him go and learn to live again. _Those were the words of Mayan, her oldest and dearest friend. And Delenn knew them to be true, which was why she compelled herself to give away her most sacred reminders of John—her engagement and wedding rings. But truth was no balm from pain, from loneliness, from fear.

And Delenn was indeed afraid. Chimir had said as much but she refused to answer his question. But the unspoken words were there, whispering at the corners of her heart. _If you accept what Chimir's offering, you must free your heart to love him in return. He deserves nothing less._ Yet another truth. _Is Chimir so different from you?_ Her mind was doing the whispering this time. _Did you not fall in love with a man who was too haunted by his wife's death to see the opportunity of happiness right before him? If John managed to love you while reserving a portion of his heart for his deceased wife, can you not do the same? _And that was the pivotal question. Could she? Did she even want to try?

Before Delenn had a chance to answer the inner monologue, she heard a soft rap. She turned her face toward the sound and the knock came again, a tad harder this time, followed by a familiar head. Susan.

"I thought you would like to know that David has left for the vault."

Delenn nodded, figuring Susan was assigned the task of checking on her before she left and David would do so when he returned. Overprotective. Overbearing. Delenn briefly closed her eyes, feeling Susan's concerned glare wash over her, knowing she wouldn't leave unless she was convinced Delenn wouldn't melt into a shivering mass of tears as soon as the door was closed and locked behind her. Overprotective. Overbearing. Loving.

"Come in, Susan."

She did and Delenn noticed she'd removed her cloak and allowed her rich dark hair with slivers of gray out of its severe confines that was her typical bun. Delenn always thought Susan to be an attractive Human, and her hair dangling over her shoulders softened her features. But she would make no such comment to her friend, knowing full well how she prided herself on maintaining her 'bad ass' image. That was what John called it, and it had taken Delenn months to understand that he wasn't comparing Susan to an undisciplined donkey. He'd laughed at her and shook his head saying, "Well, you may be on to something there, Delenn. She's as tough as any donkey and mule headed to boot."

"If you'd rather be alone, I could just leave," Susan said, gesturing to the door.

Delenn would rather be alone, but one thorough look at Susan said she was the one who needed the company. "Join me," Delenn said, patting the large space beside her and then laughed at Susan's raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you have yet to master a Minbari bed."

She shrugged, unwilling to confirm or deny. Susan made her way to the bed, stopped at the edge, and removed her shoes. She eyed the slanted bed warily, and then moved—awkwardly—onto the mattress, shifting and scooting until she found whatever it was she was looking for. Delenn fought back more laughter, having not seen any Human struggle so hard on a Minbari bed since John and the Shan'Fal. Admittedly, simply laying on one was much easier than—

Delenn's mind revolted against the sensual memory, running fast and hard, avoiding pitfalls, wondering when she would be able to think of John and their many wonderful moments together without feeling like someone was digging her heart out with a carving knife.

"I don't know how—'' Susan started then abruptly stopped.

"—John did it," Delenn finished plaintively. "It's okay, Susan, I won't erupt into a fit of hysterics whenever someone mentions his name. This week has been trying, I admit, but it'll get better. Things will be back to normal soon enough and then you can stop treating me like an antiquity that need to be guarded and held ever so carefully."

She turned her head to Susan then. "I know I haven't been myself lately, but I won't break. I accept John's death."

"Do you?" She asked in a way that said she wasn't convinced. Delenn knew that tone well, and while it was great for new Rangers or pompous dignitaries, she didn't like it being directed at her.

"I accepted his death a long time ago. What choice did I have? Twenty years and no more, clear and to the point."

"That's good to hear," Susan said with that same unconvinced tone, the weight of which was beginning to grate on Delenn.

Delenn ignored her, moving to another topic before Susan started in on her. She knew why she was really in her bedroom, besides to assuage her concerns about her mental health. And the last thing Delenn wanted to talk about was her relationship with Chimir, or rather the lack thereof.

"David is in good spirits thanks to that data crystal you found," Delenn said, watching Susan carefully. The normally composed woman shifted, cleared her throat—twice—and then looked away, eyes going upward, focusing on the crème colored ceiling. That was evidence enough for Delenn.

"So, how did you manage to find such a small box in a room filled almost to capacity?"

There was more throat clearing and shifting, Susan having to grasp the edge of the bed to prevent herself from falling off. Eventually, she shrugged.

"I guess I just got lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Yeah, sure, why the hell not? I was looking for one thing and found another. It happens all the time. You know the saying," she said, forcing a laugh that sounded anything but humorous to Delenn.

"No, I don't think I know that saying, Susan. Why don't you enlighten me."

Another shrug. "The hell if I know, Delenn, I'm just glad it all worked out."

_Worked out?_

Delenn considered her friend carefully as Susan avoided eye contact. She was skeptical when Susan had come to her two days ago requesting the code to her storage room. The reason she had given about possibly leaving two or three of her boxes behind seemed implausible for a woman as organized as Susan, but it was possible. Besides, what reason did she have to lie to her? Yet, it was strange, made even stranger by the discovery of a lost or misplaced data crystal that—apparently—John recorded for their son right before his death.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Susan?"

A quick shake of Susan's head followed, her eyes still plastered to the ceiling.

The question was so open-ended Delenn hoped Susan would take the opportunity she'd given her to speak the truth—apparently not.

Delenn sighed and turned completely onto her side, her left hand going up to brace against the side of her head.

"I've never known you to be untruthful with me before, Susan. I assume if you're being so now that you have a very good reason. And if such dishonesty resulted in you finding that data crystal and bringing peace of mind to my son, then I will accept it and push no further."

Susan took two deep breaths, ran a hand through her hair, and said simply, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You're my best friend and I trust you implicitly."

Delenn returned to her back, also finding the ceiling interesting. "Please don't ever give me cause to doubt the trust I've given so freely."

"I won't, but it's my job to protect you."

"No, you're my friend who has an entire universe to protect. That's your job; I'm simply your service learning project and I want you to stop."

This got her attention, finally forcing Susan's eyes away from the ceiling. Delenn turned as well, meeting Susan's challenge.

Susan opened her mouth to speak but Delenn said, "Since you think your friendship gives you the right to poke and prod in my life, then you shouldn't mind what I've done."

Susan gave Delenn the expected glower of a woman who didn't like being thrown into rushing rapids without a battle plan for survival. Good.

"What are you talking about?"

"I had a very interesting conversation two weeks ago with one of the ambassadors," Delenn said vaguely—deliberately so. She was acting like a petty Human, but Susan was overdue for a lesson in Minbari privacy.

Delenn waited for the expected question and Susan didn't disappoint. "Which ambassador?"

Her face gave nothing away when she answered. "The Earth Ambassador—Mr. Anatoly Fedorov. He's a very interesting man," Delenn continued, enjoying Susan's attempt to mask her shocked—and yes—worried expression. John called it a "poker face." And while Delenn had no idea how to play cards, poker or otherwise, she understood his point well enough since Minbari excelled at un-interpretable expressions. Susan, however, was failing miserably.

Susan tried for nonchalance. "As President of the Alliance, it's your responsibility to speak with the ambassadors. Why would I care if you met with him or whether he's an interesting man or not?"

"You're correct, Susan, it is my responsibility to have a good working relationship with all of the ambassadors, but," she paused for effect, drawing Susan in, making her work for the false calm, "our conversation had less to do with business and more to do with the two of you."

"T-the two of us?" she sputtered, sitting up and almost losing her balance. Delenn smiled, but she wasn't quite done.

"He seems to be quite enamored with you, even asked if I had any advice on how to best handle Ranger One."

Susan quickly righted herself after falling off of the bed, Delenn unflinching, her eyes riveted to her flustered friend.

"What did Anatoly tell you?" she asked, the mask smashed and forgotten.

Delenn rolled onto her back, a contented calm coming over her. "Why didn't you tell me about you and him?" she asked, raising a hand when Susan made to deny the claim. "We agreed no more lies."

Susan huffed, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared down at Delenn. "You have a vengeful streak that I don't particularly care for, Delenn."

"Not revenge, only a friend's_ protective_ concern," she noted, knowing Susan would catch the emphasis and the irony.

"Why did you go see him?" Susan asked, having not verbally admitted to the obvious. She didn't have to, her question was concession enough for Delenn.

"I wanted to clear the air as the saying goes, make sure we understood each other."

"And what in the hell does that mean?" It was a barely contained yell and Delenn couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"What did you and Chimir talk about in your office two days ago?"

Susan visibly gulped, taking two steps away from the bed as Delenn stood.

"How did you know he came to see me?"

"It doesn't matter." She glided around the bed and closer to Susan. "No more than it matters how I found out that you and Ambassador Fedorov having been secretly dating for almost a year."

Susan's eyes widened at her words, arms dropping to her side. "You've known for a long time haven't you?"

Delenn nodded.

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"You know why."

"Because you didn't feel it was your place and you respect my decisions even if you disagree."

"Exactly."

Susan gave Delenn a cool look. "Is that your way of saying if I continue nagging you about your relationship with Chimir, you'll suddenly feel inclined to have sisterly conversations about Anatoly?"

Delenn returned the cool look but softened it with a thin smile. "We could stay up late drinking tea while you explain why you turned down his proposal of marriage."

"God dammit, I can't believe he told you that," Susan loudly complained. "I told him—''

Delenn's laughter yielded Susan's tirade and earned her a mutinous glare.

"You devious little—you had no idea about the proposal. I just gave that right to you, didn't I? And I thought we were friends."

Susan looked so put out that Delenn couldn't stop laughing and before she knew it, Susan had joined her, laugh tears rolling down their cheeks like a caged bird being set free.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Susan said, wiping her face. "Let me out of your Minbari spider's web and I'll promise to give advice only when asked and to let you do things in your own time. No more mother-henning." She put her first three fingers up, "Scout's honor."

Delenn had no idea of the honor or promise to which Susan had just referred, but she understood the message all the same. Susan would no longer push or interfere in her romantic life, such that it was.

"Aren't we a pair?" Susan said, pulling stray strands of hair from her face.

"A pair of what?" she wanted to ask but thought better of it. Being married to John, she'd learned that sometimes it was better not knowing—Human sayings were tedious at worse, strange at best.

Delenn returned to the bed, and surprisingly, so did Susan, fairing much better this time.

"Maybe I'll just take a little nap and wait for David to return."

"You could wait in the living room or one of the guest rooms. I told you, I'll be fine."

Susan shrugged. "I'm already here. Besides, did you ever think that perhaps I actually enjoy your company? No matter how mean you've been to me the last fifteen minutes."

"You have tough skin, I'm sure I put barely a dent in your armor," Delenn said, reaching down and pulling a blanket over the two of them. "However, I am glad for the company, even if I have to share my bed."

Susan chuckled low. "Yeah, I think we're a little too old for a slumber party."

"An overnight party in which guests, usually girls, wear nightclothes, socialize, and spend the night at a friend's home. Minbari's don't have slumber parties."

"Okay, then consider this your first one. Although," Susan said, trying to fluff a flat pillow, "I think we'll both be asleep before the fun starts."

"I think you're right."

They both fell silent for several long minutes, the big, empty house an echo of Delenn's lonely state.

"So, what are you going to do about Chimir?"

"I don't know. What do you plan on doing about Ambassador Fedorov?"

"I don't know."

"Yes," Delenn said, blinking fatigued eyes, "we are indeed a pair . . . a pair of women too afraid to let go of the past and step into the future with men who dare to love us in spite of ourselves."

**Part 2**

John sat on the gray and white marble bench in Chimir's plush garden. Yellow, white, and red flowers whose petals were as strong and vibrant as their aroma surrounded him, glorying in the mid-day rays of the sun. John wished this garden could provide the same level of contentment he'd found on Babylon 5. Then again, he admitted, his contentment had more to do with who was with him than where he was.

"Delenn." He whispered her name like a sacred prayer. It had been almost two weeks since she'd spent the night with Chimir. He could still taste her lips, the kiss that was meant for another. Yet, she hadn't returned to the house, hadn't even called in the week following the funeral. But that was for the best, he reasoned, ignoring the thoughtful gaze of his unwanted visitor.

"I thought you came out here so we could talk and not draw attention to yourself. But you haven't uttered one word."

"Chimir's staff already thinks he's losing it, why add to the rumor mill," John said, leaning over to smell one of the flowers. He didn't know the name for it, or any of them for that matter, but he knew who would—Delenn. She had an amazing and varied wealth of knowledge, making her a better president than he'd ever been.

And now he had another guest, the bright ball of light ushering him into the kitchen, causing John to nearly choke on his lunch.

"I must be the only guy in the universe who requires this much attention. First Lorien drops me off in this body. I'll call him the ghost of Christmas present. Then Lennier poofs into the living room full of blistering jealousy that had yet to abate. I assume he was my ghost of Christmas past. And now you."

"I guess that makes me ghost of Christmas future."

"I guess it does, though I can't quite see you in a red suit and a belly full of jelly. You were always so fit. Although I've never actually seen you as Valen, so perhaps you gained a few pounds after the transformation."

Sinclair gave him a squelching look and John shrugged. "Maybe not. Why did you come as Sinclair anyway instead of Valen?"

"I thought you would be more comfortable with this incarnation. I could always—''

John raised his hand. "Please spare me the afterlife theatrics. I'm not in the mood."

"So I see. Then I'll get to the point of my visit."

"Please do," John said curtly, all good manners forgotten. His mother and Delenn would be so disappointed. Oh well, neither was around to complain and John was so tired of this cloak and dagger bullshit.

"You don't have much time left, John, and you seem to be making no effort to win Delenn."

"She's unwinnable and," he said, swatting an annoying fly away from him, "I'm willing to lose. In fact, I give up."

"Give up?" Sinclair's voice registered his surprise.

"Yes, now zap me out of this body, or whatever in the hell you or Lorien did to get me in here."

"If you give up now, you won't be able to return."

"I don't care."

"Do you also not care about your life essence? You cannot go back to that previous existence. You must truly let your family go before you can pass beyond the rim. If you do not, you will be lost forever, Delenn unable to meet you when her time comes. Are you willing to take that risk?"

John had considered all of his options, weighing each one against his heart, his love for his wife. "I understand the consequences and I'm willing to accept them. Can we go now?"

He made to stand, but Sinclair stilled him, placing a gentle hand on his sleeve. John sat and stared at the man who looked exactly as he'd last seen him on Babylon 4, even down to the clothing he wore and those all-knowing eyes. The man before him may look like Jeffrey Sinclair, but the eyes peering back at him could only be Valen's. Yes, they were one and the same, yet they weren't—confusing as hell but eerily true.

"It was a long time ago, John. Don't let it ruin Delenn's future."

"What do you mean?"

"Chimir and Delenn. That was a very long time ago and it had nothing to do with you. Don't allow jealousy to interfere with what needs to be done."

John shook his head and gave a low, growl of a laugh. "This isn't about jealousy, although it does make sense now why Chimir was selected. I now know they shared something very special. Delenn thumbed her nose at the mating rituals and gave herself to Chimir because she loved him. But me . . . well, she made me perform each and every god awful one, making me wait until our wedding night to consummate our union." His words had turned uncharacteristically bitter, the truth of the double-standard hitting him like a plasma blast to the solar plexus. Why had Delenn denied him when she'd given herself so freely to Chimir?

"The situation was very different with them, John. You've been linked to Chimir's mind long enough to know that. She was young, inexperienced, and in love for the first time. She'd also just lost her mentor and friend. I thought you of all people would understand how one can enter into a liaison without giving it full thought—or a marriage," he strategically added.

Okay, so he had to go there, throwing his short-lived and foolish marriage to Lochley up in his face.

"I guess you think you have all the answers, huh?"

Sinclair shook his head. "Not all, but I know Delenn. One misstep on her part back then would've given her clan the excuse they wanted to force her from Babylon 5 and away from John Starkiller Sheridan. She was protecting your relationship the only way she knew how. Delenn makes few mistakes, but when she does she learns from them."

"Are you saying Delenn viewed her relationship with Chimir as a mistake?"

Sinclair shook his head again. "No, but she would have preferred to handle it differently, especially the ending. She wasn't meant to be with him then, and Delenn knew it. She's always known, even when she didn't understand—a true priestess, heart, mind, and soul.

Whether Sinclair was fudging the truth to get him to feel better about seeing his wife making love to another man never entered John's mind. Sinclair . . . Valen wouldn't lie outright. And, yes, there were more than a few kernels of jealousy inside him ready to pop. But that wasn't the reason why he was giving up. He could handle a few uncomfortable memories if he thought he'd had a true chance with Delenn. But he didn't.

"Even if it means the death of my soul, the diffusion of my essence to the proverbial wind, I won't continue this charade any longer. I won't convince Delenn to reignite an affair of the heart with Chimir. He's not the man for her, and you damn well know it. It's simply cruel and I'll no longer be party to this farce. I'll die; cease to exist in any form before I help Chimir draw Delenn in any more than she already is."

Sinclair stood then, his eyes hardening at John's outburst. "You don't understand what you're doing." His voice matched his eyes—hard and resolute.

"No, I know exactly what I'm doing," he spat, rising to meet Sinclair's eyes. "For God's sake, Jeff, Chimir is _dying_. Why in the hell would the three of you encourage a relationship between Delenn and a man dying of a brain tumor?"

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	14. Chapter 14: The Proposition

**Chapter 14: The Proposition**

"_The brain is a highly specialized organ. It serves as the control center for functions of the body and allows us to cope with our environment. Words, actions, thoughts, and feelings are centered in the brain. It is so complex that some theorists believe we will never be able to fully understand it. We do, however, know that each part of the brain has a specific, important function, often a profoundly important function, and each part contributes to the healthy functioning of our body."_

_John stood in Dr. Paloon's office like one of the Queen's Guards from old, standing in front of Buckingham Palace rigid and unmoving— face blank. A sentry in black and red, reminding one more of a statue than a living, breathing person with a mind, a heart, a life. But Sheridan's last hope of a life, even the strange one he's been living for the past month had just slipped through his fingers, like snow brought inside a warm home—never meant to last under such conditions._

"_While rare among our people, Shai Alyt Chimir, brain tumors are known to come in four basic types with some variation within each type. At this point, you have a grade three tumor, called astrocytoma. An astrocytoma is a glioma that develops from star-shaped glial cells—astrocytes— that support nerve cells."_

_Dr. Paloon placed his aging hands on his desk, pushed himself upward, and stood with weakly disguised effort. His white robe hung loosely on his tall, frail form, the wide sleeves swinging as he made his way around his too-wide glass desk and toward his stunned patient._

_John remembered his first encounter with a Minbari healer—Delenn's personal physician. It had been aboard a Minbari war cruiser right after he was liberated from Mars' torture room, care of good ole President Clark. The female healer wore the same expression as the man before him—polite concern. She was also very kind and gentle as she listed—in matter-of-fact detail—his injuries and medical recommendations. He could appreciate the methodic way she addressed each of his concerns, answering all John's questions with efficacy, Delenn serving as a translator. _

_Her warm gaze soothed John, when the examination required him to release her hand. Yet, she remained, her loving energy swathing him in the safest cocoon imaginable—the bosom of a woman's heart. But there was no Delenn now. And the same polite concern emanating from Dr. Paloon and his matter-of-fact approach to Chimir's medical condition felt like an arctic blast, freezing John where he stood._

"_Is there someone I can call?" the doctor asked, his hand coming up to rest on John's solid shoulders, his apologetic blue eyes belying the business like strength of his voice. "Your brother? Your acolyte? Anyone at all?_

_His reply came out as a hiss of brutal reality, "No, no one. No one at all."_

John stumbled back to the marble bench strategically placed in the center of Chimir's personal garden, a stone path leading from it to the back of the Warrior castemen's single, solitary home. Indeed, Chimir's family home resided on acres of flowing, green land, enough to accommodate a brood of children, in-laws, and the stray unwanted family member. But he was its sole occupant, the last of his blood family, no heir, no wife. Who would mourn Chimir when the time came? Who would care?

His caste?

His clan?

Delenn?

"John," Sinclair said, sitting beside him on the bench, "you don't understand."

"I thought understanding wasn't required, only obedience. Was that one of your credos, Valen?" John was as angry and frightened as a cock in a pit, thrown into circumstances beyond his control, and asked to fight, to survive, to win.

"Valen had no such credo, John, and I'm not here as him. Understanding is essential in this instance and, yes, so is obedience."

John gripped the folds of his black cloak, its thick tapestry perfectly woven, cooling his body in spite of the heat wafting from him, this conversation futile, meaningless.

"You are Valen and he is you. I don't know what game you're playing at, Sinclair, but I want none of it. I don't have to understand a damn thing and I sure as hell will not obey you, Lorien, or anyone else. Not if it means bringing more pain to Delenn."

John stood, crossed in front of Sinclair, and found the stone path, its intricate colors and shapes neatly forming a winding road between perfectly manicured bushes that were no more than five feet in height and double that in width. Hands clasped behind his back, John strolled in silence, taking the path further away from the house and toward the sound of running water.

A minute later, Jeffrey Sinclair was beside him, hands in his pocket. John knew the man wouldn't go away until he listened to whatever point he wanted to share with him, Minbari patience enough to make a Human howl at the moon like a rabid wolf.

"Speak your peace, Jeff, and then take me from this place."

The men continued to follow the path, the surrounding shrubbery fading into green specks the closer they got to the sound of water, the sun overhead causing beads of sweat to form on their foreheads.

Sinclair placed a hand on John's forearm, and both men stopped, looking ahead instead of at each other.

"You must continue, John. You've made great progress with Delenn these last few weeks. Progress Chimir couldn't have made on his own. Minbari view the universe with infinite patience and Chimir is no different, thinking— in time— Delenn would seek him out. But you know better. You know how deep such wounds go and how hard it is to let go of the past in order to form new bonds, build a different future for yourself."

John did know, Sinclair's point not lost on him. But the man was oversimplifying his predicament, missing the nuance in the comparison.

"When I finally decided to let go of Anna and embrace my feelings for Delenn, I didn't know I would only have twenty years to give her."

"Would that have changed anything?"

John pulled his arm from Sinclair and resumed walking, his pace more brisk than before, Sinclair lockstep next to him.

"She knew about the twenty years when I asked her to marry me."

"Did you honestly think she would turn down your proposal? You knew she loved you, although such a love would be frowned upon by her people."

John abruptly stopped at the clearing, a waterfall with crystalline liquid flowing down a high, flat cliff into the shallow river below, the light splashing and trickle reminding John of the nature sounds he programmed into his Babcom unit to help him to sleep.

"Yes, I knew she loved me and, no, I didn't really think she would spurn my proposal in spite of my limited lifespan. Delenn's not like that. But I now wonder, perhaps Lennier was right. Maybe I should've stepped aside and allowed her to find and fall in love with someone else, a Minbari who had more time to give her."

John made his way closer to the river, the soft currents rolling from north to south, colorful fish luxuriating in the translucent water.**  
**

That was the first time John had ever admitted that aloud, although not the first time the thought had crossed his mind. It wasn't until the fifteenth year mark that he began to really feel death calling him, when the truth of his expiration was no longer some far off inevitability that he could pretend was nothing more than a cruel dream promulgated by Morpheus. Yet his body knew the truth, his limbs beginning to make their final rotations, winding down until one day he would simply stop.

"Is that how you truly feel? Do you think Delenn would've been better off without you, without those twenty years, without David?"

They found a gazebo near the river and sat, the weave of the thick vines making for a sturdy spot from which to view the river and surrounding landscape. The men sat and John found himself staring across the river to the towering mountain.

His heart told him she wouldn't have been, nor would he. Yet, he watched her watch him, her eyes growing sadder with each passing year as he began to slow down, fading right before her eyes. And if he pushed this relationship with Chimir, encouraged her to give love another chance, she would have to go through that all over again, forced to watch Chimir succumb to an inoperable brain tumor, Minbari bonecrest wonderful for protecting them from cranial attack. But the worse feature to have when the attack was internal and the operation to remove portions of the crest just to get to the soft underside, more dangerous than the tumor itself.

"I won't put her through that again. At least I had twenty years to give Delenn. Chimir doesn't even have that. Weeks? Months? Not enough time, not nearly enough."

"True," Sinclair said, toying with the sleeve of his Earthforce uniform, "but there are things worse than death, John."

"Such as?"

"Such as spending decades lonely and in isolation."

John twisted to better see the man, Sinclair's profile as young as John remembered. It was hard looking at the former Babylon 5 captain and knowing that he had gone back in time, used the triluminary for the first time, transformed himself into a Minbari, and became the revered Valen—Delenn's Valen, her great grandfather many times removed.

"What are you talking about, Jeff."

The man sighed, and for a moment appeared much older, the wisdom of having experienced two lifetimes quickly sprinting across his face. And then it was gone.

"As you can imagine, Delenn is very special to the universe, to Minbar . . . to me," he added. "In spite of, or perhaps because of her mixed DNA, she will live for a very long time. That time shouldn't be spent alone or in seclusion."

"Chimir can't do a damn thing about that. He probably won't last the season. Why set her up for more pain, more heartache? I may not like it, but she obviously cares for him and he for her. He's not a bad guy, and if it wasn't for the war, they would've become mates, husband and wife. I'm no fool. I saw his memories, the time they spent together. She was happy with him, loved him. They could've made it work but Delenn put her people and their needs above that of her own."

"Yes, Minbari souls being reborn into Humans. She made the correct decision, the personal sacrifice necessary for things that would come later."

"Delenn had made too many sacrifices in her life." John thumbed his finger on the back of the bench, the wood carved smooth, triangular patterns embedded deep within, the raised grooves pleasant to the touch. "I don't understand."

"Unlike Humans, Minbari mate for life. It's extremely rare for one of them to take another but it isn't unheard of. While Humans, as you know, may wed multiple times during the course of their short lives."

John felt himself tense. This was the second time Sinclair had mentioned his marital state, both with a judging tone. Who was he to judge him? Then again, John thought, settling back down, three marriages wasn't exactly normal for Humans either. Outside of fickle entertainers, the average Human didn't marry more than twice. But this was no cause for shame . . . except perhaps for Lochley. He really should've known better.

"You gained something of value, John, with each marriage, having taken a wife from each caste. They were pivotal in helping create the man you would become, the man the Army of Light needed to defeat the darkness that threatened us all."

He had never thought about it in those terms. But what did this have to do with anything? With Delenn?

Sinclair stood, moving to the edge of the gazebo, and then turning to face John.

"Your first wife, Elizabeth Lochley, the warrior, what did you learn from being married to her?"

John leaned back against the bench, stretching Chimir's long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. He considered Sinclair, wondering what in the hell he was exactly. Ghost? Angel? Tormentor?

Giving in to Sinclair's persistent gaze, John considered his short-lived marriage to Elizabeth Lochley. She would be in her early seventies now, if she was still alive. John having to admit that he didn't even know if she was, in fact, among the living.

"I guess, I learned that it was important to work hard, study hard, and fight harder. She pushed me at every turn, always trying to be the best, be number one. Lochley was a natural leader and so was I, neither wanting to give an inch, not even to each other." He huffed, "No wonder our marriage was doomed from the beginning."

"True, but you took those lessons with you, never forgot them, even learned from them."

"That's one way of putting a positive spin on a disastrous union."

Sinclair waved that statement away as if it was inconsequential, clearly having gotten what he wanted from John's answer.

"What about Anna Sheridan? What did you learn from your marriage to a woman of the worker caste?"

Again, Sinclair posed the question, dividing his wives into Minbari castes, which John still wasn't sure how comfortable he felt about the categorization, as if he'd intentionally taken a wife from each caste. In truth, it was an eerie coincidence, one he'd never realized. Now, John wondered if Delenn had seen it as clearly as Sinclair and Lennier. Probably, and if so, why hadn't she bothered to enlighten him?

But the question was posed, and John couldn't help finding the turn of this conversation more than a little intriguing, if not emotionally exhausting.

"With Anna it was different. First, I actually cared for her beyond the physical release of being with a woman. Our marriage wasn't based on shallow lust, raging arguments, and blind competition. She was an intellectual, full of curiosity and wonder. She understood her place in society and taught me that we all had a role to play, a contribution to make to the bigger cause. Like Lochley, Anna worked hard, but not for personal gain, not for leadership, not for power. But the pride, the satisfaction that came from serving others, one cog among many, none more important than the others."

Sinclair nodded and smiled thinly, the sage expression both annoying and soothing, as if John had done something right even if it was unintentional.

"And—''

"What did I learn by marrying, Delenn?" John interrupted, not needing Sinclair to state the last sentence as if he was a moron unable to follow the flow of a simple conversation. Although, this conversation could've been a lot simpler if Sinclair had just accepted the fact that John had no intention of palming a dying Chimir off on an unsuspecting Delenn.

Another nod and an even thinner smile. Sinclair moved to the other side of the gazebo, reaching out to finger a bloom from a nearby tree, his gaze fixed to the sky, head facing upward.

"Your religious caste wife," he said, several minutes later, his attention back on John. "Of all my descendants, she's the only one the triluminary responded to. I knew when I met her on Babylon 5 that she was different . . . special. I felt an odd connection to her that I couldn't explain. It wasn't romantic, although she was a most striking Minbari female."

He shrugged, his hands finding homes in Sinclair's pockets once again. "None of it really made sense back then. But she chose me to be Ambassador to Minbar, her ally, her friend. And when I arrived here—a place I've never been—it was like returning home, an indescribable breeze of familiarity, of love, washed over me, flooding my heart and mind with feelings of nostalgia."

Sinclair closed his eyes, and John swore the man actually swayed with the light breeze, as if he was truly _of_ Minbar. Perhaps he was.

John used the silence to reflect on what he'd learned from Delenn and almost laughed. What hadn't he learned from her would've garnered a much shorter list. But Sinclair didn't want a list and John was tired of talking in circles. This was the last question he would answer, the indulgent act having run its course.

Sinclair opened his eyes, the gray orbs suddenly fixed on John. "What about Delenn?"

"I've been thinking about what you said, about me marrying a woman from each caste and that smacks of prophecy." John shook his head when Sinclair made to speak, letting him know they weren't going to have _that_ conversation too. "Anyway, while Delenn may have been raised and trained to be a priestess, she's not simply religious caste. Yes, I can see how Lochley and Anna fit into those categories, but Delenn . . . well, Delenn is more than any one caste. Life, experience, and circumstance have made her all three. She yields if she has to, fights when she must, but always works for the better good, for the universe, for everyone but herself. If there had been no Elizabeth Lochley and no Anna Sheridan, there would've been no John and Delenn. They prepared me for her, for our life together."

The thin smile widened and the nod was firmer. Sinclair came to stand before John.

"Delenn could never love a man who is singular in his thinking. She fell in love with Chimir because he was a hard working warrior who's calling was religion. If she doesn't open herself up to Chimir now, John, she'll never know love again. Delenn will spend the rest of her days alone. In time, after David mates, she'll gradually remove herself from Minbari society."

"You've seen this future?" John asked, rising to his feet, causing Sinclair to take several steps back.

"Yes. Delenn is needed in ways you can't begin to comprehend. Her destiny didn't end with the Shadow War or with your death."

John rubbed his fingers over his temples, moving them in a circular motion he hoped would stave off the headache he felt hovering behind his eyes.

"If Delenn can bring herself to engage in the Shan'Fal with Chimir, if she opens herself up to that level of emotion, intimacy, she'll understand that you didn't take that part of her with you," Sinclair said.

"What you're saying doesn't make sense. She'll open herself up to a man who will die on her, leaving her alone the way I did."

"Yes, but she would've proven something to herself that she doesn't even know needs proving."

"And what in the hell is that?" John snapped, bringing his hands to his side, the temple massage a wasted effort.

"That there is life after John Sheridan. Seven years later and she still doesn't believe that to be the case. David and the Alliance are the only things that have kept her from total seclusion. But David will soon have his own family and Delenn won't be President of the Alliance forever."

The headache was back and with a vengeance, forcing John to take refuge on the wooden bench. God, could this get any worse? Was there no way out of this mess? A happy ending for any of them? For Delenn? Especially for Delenn.

John slumped against the back of the bench and Sinclair looked on in obvious concern. "Is there anything I can do for you, John?"

Taking deep gulps of fresh air, John tried to clear his mind, slow his racing heart. "What you're telling me is that if I don't help Chimir, Delenn will turn into a recluse; thereby, denying herself any chance of happiness and a yet undisclosed destiny. On the other hand, if I help Chimir, she'll open her heart to love again, but he'll die before they have a chance at happiness; yet, she'll remain a strong, needed presence in Minbari society because she would've proven to herself that grief need not be eternal and debilitating."

"Now you understand."

"Actually, I don't," John said, his voice surprisingly strong considering the dull ache in his occipital lobe, the region where Dr. Paloon said the tumor was located. "It sounds like Delenn will be hurt either way. Sure the second option leaves Minbar in a good position, but what about Delenn? Will Chimir's death convince her that she could love a third?"

No answer. Yeah, that's what John thought. Minbari mate for life, second marriages rare, just like Sinclair said an hour ago. Delenn would do her duty for her Homeworld, for her son, but not for herself. It wasn't fair. Dammit, it just wasn't fair."

"Is there a third option, Sinclair?" The question was asked in desperation. The thought of going through the Shan'Fal with Delenn, seeing the hope for renewed love in her eyes while knowing the same eyes would be shedding tears for Chimir in a month's time, was morbidly better than envisioning her locked away in a temple somewhere for God knows how long, wasting away, pining for a husband who left her all too soon.

"Dear God, Sinclair, please tell me there's another choice." He was begging now, pride be damned. "I'll _do _anything, _give_ anything."

More silence, enough to hang a man with, the noose sliding over John's neck, Sinclair the hangmen or perhaps his deliverer.

"There is one way, but it has never been done before," Sinclair finally said, appearing none-too-pleased. "The universe doesn't take kindly to such interference—balance and all that."

John sat straight, not knowing whether to take that held breath or collapse from the stress of the wretched day.

"Anything?" Sinclair asked. "You'll do anything, John, to see Delenn happy?"

"_Yes_!" His answer was empathic. He was prepared to give up his life essence for Delenn, have it scattered to the four corners of the universe if it would spare her an ounce of pain. "Just tell me the damn option.

Sinclair's expression was grave. "The universe requires balance, John. Without it, anarchy ensues. There is one way," he said, raising a finger, "for you to remain here, bond with Delenn, and prevent Delenn's unhappy fate."

"Why in the hell didn't you tell me this earlier?" John snapped. He started to jump to his feet, and felt a wave of pain grip him. Deciding that anger, pain, and standing weren't a good combination, John remained sitting, giving Sinclair his best sardonic look.

"This isn't an option I'm offering willingly. As it is, I'll have to confer with Lorien."

Tired beyond measure, John said simply, "Tell me what I need to do."

"Chimir is the only one who Delenn will consider loving but he's dying. Except for the tumor, Chimir is in perfect health. You, on the other hand, have no body but a vibrant life essence, the same life essence that was taken from you when you died at Z'Ha'Dum. By merging with Chimir, you could . . . well, for lack of a better word, _cure_ him, staving off his illness with your additional life energy."

That sounded way too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

"What aren't you telling me, Sinclair?"

Sinclair rejoined him on the bench. "If you merge with Chimir, it won't be like it is now. You will be giving him your life essence. You won't be in control the way you are now. He'll have your memories, but your conscience will cease to exist. All that you were or are will be inside of him, but John Sheridan will be no more. He will have Delenn and you will have nothing." Sinclair gave him a pointed look. "Are you prepared to give her up to another man, a man who you know, with time, she'll grow to love, take to her bed, and make her mate? You see, John," Sinclair said, his brows knitting together, "it's much easier to allow Chimir to die, to accept the ending of your own life, even an electrical one, than it is to let go, to give up your own dream in exchange for the happiness of another, even when that other is Delenn. Can you do that for her? Are you strong enough, unselfish enough to release her to love another?"

Selfish? Had he been the selfish one? Was his refusal to let her go the reason why she couldn't let him go, move on with her life? Dear, God, he hoped that wasn't true. But the way Sinclair was staring at him, those too knowing eyes seeing into his soul, it must be.

And it did hurt seeing Delenn fight the obvious attraction she had for Chimir. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that Delenn was only responding to Chimir because she sensed John inside of Chimir, he could no longer lie to himself. Whatever bond they shared as young adults was slowing reforming, twining its way around Delenn's heart. And eventually, she would embrace it, the same way he did when he finally accepted Anna's death, no longer viewing Delenn through a widower's eyes. But the eyes of a man very much in love and poised to strike a new path.

"That's the least I can do for her." John heard his voice and the lack of conviction. He was no good at this. With Anna, he'd lost her suddenly. He was powerless to control their fate. But this. God, this hurt like a firebrand to the heart. He would die for Delenn, but was he willing to live for her? He was. Without a doubt, he was.

"I'm willing. I love her, more than I love myself. But that doesn't sound like a balance to me, Sinclair. Is there more to this, or do you simply like referring to the universe like it's some sentient being who will strike me down for mucking things up with my little mortal problems?"

John could've sworn the edges of Sinclair's mouth wrinkled in what could've been a burgeoning smile, but it was quickly doused. He may not have come to him in the form of Valen, but the more they'd talked, especially about Delenn, the more he appeared less Human and more Minbari—whatever in the hell that meant.

"You're correct, of course. There is a part of this proposition that Chimir must agree—a sacrifice for all parties involved."

John wondered what in the hell Chimir would have to agree to that would rival what he was getting in return. A long life with Delenn and a clean bill of health, what in the hell could Chimir offer to top that?

"In exchange for your life essence," Sinclair said, clearing his throat, the anticipation doing nothing for John's headache, "Chimir will spend his afterlife without Delenn, his beloved."

John blinked in confusion, bringing a hand up and to his eyes. He wiped away the perspiration and scratched his forehead.

"I don't understand," John said.

"Upon death, Delenn's soul will join with your soul beyond the rim. When Chimir finally dies, your soul will part from him and wait, if Delenn hasn't passed on, or join with hers where no shadows fall."

"Wait. What?"

Sinclair slowed the cadence of his speech, as if John's lack of comprehension had something to do with how fast the words came out of his mouth. If John wasn't so lightheaded, he would tell Sinclair exactly where he could stuff his slow talking. Not that John wanted to antagonize the one person who could help him help Delenn.

"Delenn pledged her soul to you when you mated. On the rare occasion a Minbari has taken a second mate, like after the Earth-Minabri War, the soul-binding portion of the ceremony isn't duplicated. That is the reason for all of the mating rituals, John. Minbari need to know that the mate they have chosen is the one they truly want to spend their physical _and_ spiritual life with. For Minbari, there is no "till death do us part." Death is simply an interruption, not an end."

"Are you saying that no matter how many years Delenn is with Chimir, she will still want to spend eternity with me?"

"She chose you as much as you chose her. Delenn could've explored any latent feelings she had for Chimir anytime after she met you. She also didn't have to bind her soul to yours, but she did. Those were all her choices, and they had value to her. In time, Delenn will come to care for Chimir as a lover and mate, but that won't change the choice she made on your wedding day. In order for the merging to occur, Chimir must understand this and accept it. He will have her love, her body, part of her heart, but never Delenn's soul. That, John Sheridan, will always belong to you."

With those haunting words, Sinclair stood, placed his hands on John's tensed shoulders, and said, "Talk it over with Chimir. Remember, you must both agree."

John numbly nodded, opened his mouth to ask a question, and then closed it. Sinclair was gone, a cool breeze taking his place.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	15. Chapter 15: Coming to Terms

**Chapter 15: Coming to Terms**

**Part 1**

John Sheridan felt like an idiot sitting on the floor in the middle of Chimir's living room talking to himself. It had been hours since Sinclair had dropped his little bombshell and vanished like a shadow during an eclipse. And John was pretty sure during those hours a lot of pacing, swearing, and smashing of fine crystals had taken place. He'd blacked out, coming to in an upturned living room, not knowing whether he or Chimir had wrecked the once immaculate place. Now, among broken china and glass, strewn papers, cushions, and books, John sat, trying to coax Chimir out of his resentful, stubborn shell.

It was one of those humorless moments, John thought, when he cleared a path on the messy floor, located a discarded throw pillow, and sat. A moment in which he realized, as he attempted to meditate, that he was trying to speak to the very man whose body he'd inhabited for the length of almost two months. He actually found himself laughing at the cruelty of it all. Two months and it had never occurred to him to attempt this before. Two months. _Two goddamn months._ No wonder the man was silent, refusing John's pleas. But this was about more than John and Chimir, it was about Delenn's future, and John needed Sinclair's plan to work. Meaning, Chimir had to stop being a prideful Minbari and start talking to him.

"Neither one of us have time for this pissing contest, Chimir," John said, leaning his back against the sofa, long legs stretched in front of him. "Lorien told me I had two months for this mission. I didn't understand the rush, but I do now. He meant _you_ only had two months. I've been here for nearly seven weeks. You're dying, Chimir, and I don't want to find out what happens by week eight if we haven't struck a deal."

John waited. Fifteen more minutes went by before he felt, rather than heard, words sliding along the stem of his brain.

"_Why must Humans talk so much?"_

It was Chimir, finally, John thought, ignoring the insult.

"We need to speak, Chimir."

"_Yes, but thinking usually precedes talking, or even doing. Have you ever done either before moving forward with a plan? Or do you simply hope that good intentions will lead to a satisfactory conclusion?"_

Another insult. John ignored that as well.

"Actually," John said, going for annoyed calm, "I've given it considerable thought. And I've concluded that it's a shitty plan that I'm willing to submit to."

John thought he sensed a tremor that felt like it could've been a laugh.

"_Humans and your colorful language. I too think it's a . . . shitty plan, but I'm not yet ready to make a decision."_

Not ready? How much time did this guy think he had? If he died, they both would, and so would Delenn's chance at any type of happiness.

"You heard what the doctor told me. And I also know you've been having headaches for awhile now, refusing to seek medical attention, thinking you could tough it out like any good Warrior Castemen. Well, I hate to tell you this, my friend," John said sarcastically, "in a week's time you'll be just as dead as me—a soul without a body, yearning for a woman just beyond your reach."

The tickle of laughter was gone, replaced by a small fury that sent a wave of pain through John's head.

"_We're not friends,"_ the strong pulse came. _"You're nothing more than a leech of the worse order. You've taken from me, used by body, my life, my history with Delenn to get close to her, to sip from that bordered up well one last time. You don't deserve her."_

Annoyed calm be damned. "And you do?" John snapped. "You, the one who ripped through Delenn's heart like the Blackstar through Earthforce's war cruisers. And for what? For ending a war that had taken so many Minbari lives, a war that almost decimated an entire planet? Did you not know or trust her enough to think that she must've had a very good reason for what she'd done? Did you not love her enough to forgive?"

Another bolt of pain rocked John, then another, and another still until he was splayed on the carpeted floor, clutching his head in his hands.

"_You arrogant, self-serving Human, I saw what you did to Delenn when your wife returned. The way you spoke to her, manhandled her in your anger. You should've been lashed for touching her in such a vile, disrespectful manner. Where was your forgiveness and trust then, Sheridan? Where was your heart when Delenn told you she loved you and you turned and walked away from her? Don't you dare lecture me; you have no right, no moral standing here."_

"You're right," John admitted, the pain in his head having receded, yet the bloody wound Chimir dug up was still there, oozing regretful pus. John remained on the floor, eyes cast upward. "In my anger I did and said things I wish I could take back." John sighed and ran a trembling hand over his face. "I should've taken time to cool off, to speak with Delenn, even Ivanova before rushing off to Z'Ha'Dum. I did none of those things, convinced there was only one way to avenge Anna, save Delenn and the others, and end the war."

"_You were wrong."_

"Yes."

"_So was I. I too regret the past. Honor and pride in a man knows no boundaries of race and space. And I am well acquainted with anger. For too long it consumed me, drove me nearly mad, even after the war ended."_

"She would've been there for you if you would've allowed her."

"Yes, I know that now."

"But I'm glad you didn't." John ventured to pull himself to a sitting position, sliding to the sofa, and using it to hoist himself up until he lay lengthwise. "I'm selfish and honest enough to admit that if you'd been a little less warrior and more religious in your stance, Delenn would've never come to Babylon 5. And if she did, she would've already been committed to you, viewing me as only an ally in the coming war."

There was no response from Chimir for a long time. John knew he was thinking, trudging through memories and emotions, weighing his options. But options were limited to two—life or death. A simple but complicated choice.

"_I unknowingly gave her to you once, now you ask me to give her to you again,"_ Chimir said, drawing John's attention back to the lost conversation.

John snorted. "It seems like I'm the one giving her to you." John winced, hating the way that sounded. Delenn wasn't an object to be exchanged or bartered like a fine piece of glasswork. She was a person with a mind of her own. And that very acute mind might very well decide against a union with Chimir. Assuredly, she would be appalled, if not insulted, by this very conversation, the deal they would surely make before the night was over. But ultimately, no matter what he and Chimir decided, Delenn's decision was all that truly counted. "My life energy in exchange for your dying one," John said. "I don't know how much that amounts to but I'll bet it's a damn sight more than a lousy twenty years."

The words tasted like frothy, bitter coffee, but John accepted the rancid flavor, willing to swallow anything to spare Delenn more pain, more loneliness.

"But you'll have her for eternity. She bound herself to you; Minbari, especially Religious Caste, don't take such declarations lightly. There is, of course, a ritual to dissolve such a binding, but I have no doubt Delenn would ever engage in such a ritual—even if she desires to become my mate."

Another long silence from Chimir and John knew the man was tasting his own bitter brew, deciding if the taste was too foul to swallow or if he was better off spitting it into John's face.

"_I've heard Humans refer to Minbari as 'hardheaded.' And I used to think how odd they were to state the obvious as if it was some sort of epiphany. Then I realized, after getting to know some of the Human Rangers, that they meant we could be a most stubborn, willful race of people. While I think the odd term can most assuredly apply to races other than Minbari, on occasion, it has been true for me."_

John wanted to laugh then cry. Chimir sounded so much like Delenn. He could understand her, by virtue of being Minbari, in a way John never had. Even after twenty years of marriage and five years on Babylon 5, language and other cultural differences still managed to weave their way into misunderstandings, and yes, even arguments.

"_I don't want to be stubborn anymore,"_ Chimir reluctantly conceded. _"And like you, Sheridan, I can selfishly and honestly admit that I love Delenn enough to use your life essence to have a chance with her, knowing how much it will hurt when she refuses to recite those binding words with me."_

Another lengthy pause, the silence painfully thrumming along John's heart.

Was it done? Had they struck that most sacrilegious of deals, come to terms with the insane, the unthinkable?

"_What do we do now, Sheridan?"_

John sat up and then stood. "I don't know." He didn't want to think about what he'd . . . they'd just done. He simply wanted it over and done with before someone gave him a virtual slap upside his head, or shook some sense into him. Ivanova popped to mind and John couldn't help but smile, knowing she was the perfect person for the job.

But then there was no more time for pondering or second thoughts, two blinding flashes of light appearing out of the darkness like Haley's Comet streaking across the quietly morbid sky. And then they were there—Lorien and Valen. The light hovered about their angelic, unreal forms, their flesh nearly translucent, making John feel like he was in the presence of Gods. No they were not the mortal men they'd come to him as earlier, but something other, something . . . _divine_.

In unison, they reached for him, placing a soft hand on each shoulder, gently squeezing, eyes sparkling with something that looked like relief, satisfaction, even pride. Then they spoke, not with lips or tongue, but their joined minds, the words undecipherable, but the warmth, the faith, the love unmistakable.

Then he was falling, falling, falling.

**Part 2**

Delenn looked around the spacious room and nodded her head in gentle approval. Seated in their finest robes, suits, and uniforms were row after row of smiling happy faces—Humans, Minbari, Narns, and Centauri. Disparate races intermingling as equals, as friends, having come together to celebrate this most blessed of ceremonies.

Delenn's watery eyes finally settled on Susan—her best friend. She'd never seen Susan so beautiful, so happy, so at peace. In fact, Delenn smiled broadly, she'd never actually seen Susan in a dress before. And here she stood, in a room full of friends and dignitaries, in a flowing white wedding dress designed by Delenn herself.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the gray haired Reverend Dexter said, his satisfied smile almost as bright as the one on Susan's new husband's face. "You may kiss the bride."

Anatoly Fedorov didn't need to be told more than once, his lips descending on Susan's, his arms pulling her closer, the cheers of the crowd encouraging the Russian to claim his new wife with much ardor. And David was among the loud wedding goers, his exuberant whistles and clapping causing Delenn to scoot a little away from him. Only to find herself wedged up against an even louder Michael Garibaldi.

The crowd stood, the Humans and a few Minbari Rangers tossing rice as the bride and groom made their way from the altar and down the aisle. The pool of people followed, their cheers dying in intensity and volume until Delenn could barely hear them at all.

"Are you coming, Mom?" David asked.

"Yeah, Delenn," added Michael. "You threw Susan one hell of a wedding. A Susan Ivanova wedding, I might add, I thought would never happen unless hell froze over and the devil took a friggin vacation." He ran his hands together in anticipation. "Can't wait to see what kind of reception you have planned. Lise is particularly fond of Minbari poetry. David said something about Shaal Mayan giving a wedding tribute to the happy couple."

Delenn nodded. "Yes, I asked and she humbly agreed. Her daughter is also in attendance." She looked briefly at her son, catching his smile and slight blush at the mention of Malan, Mayan's daughter.

They'd become quite fond of each other this past year, Delenn and Mayan doing their able best not to show how very much they would like for the young couple to begin the courting rituals. David, Delenn realized, was even like his father in ways of the heart,—slow to recognize when he was the object of a woman's affection.

"Maybe I should go check on her . . . I mean on them," David suggested, eagerly jumping to his feet. He gave Delenn a kiss to her cheek, bowed respectfully, and said before leaving, "I'll see the two of you inside the reception hall. Don't be long or you'll miss Aunt Susan's face when I ask her how long before she and Anatoly make their own little White Russian cocktail and give me a cousin."

"I gotta see this," Michael said, laughing. "She's gonna tear the kid a new one, wearing a dress at that." He turned to Delenn, his eyes full of mirth. How Delenn had missed him and all the others, so many, Stephen now among them, having passed beyond the veil three years ago, succumbing to complications stemming from an aortic dissection.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Delenn. How in the hell did you manage to get her to wear a friggin dress? Hell, how did Anatoly convince her to marry him?"

Michael shook his head, gliding a hand over his baldhead, eyes registering confusion.

He huffed. "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. Our recalcitrant commander has finally found a chain to go with her balls."

They laughed. Valen, she had missed him—inappropriate Earth humor and all.

"Why don't you go to the reception, Michael," Delenn said, gently touching his shoulder. "I'll be along shortly. And if you can," she added before he left, "try to prevent my son from embarrassing himself by having a woman in a wedding dress take a denn'bok to his head."

A wink and a laugh and he was gone.

Delenn retook her seat, gazing at the multicolored stained glass windows, the image of an all-knowing universe peering back at her. She closed her eyes, taking in the calm of the chapel and the contentment of the silence.

In spite of Susan's reticence, she had finally accepted Anatoly's offer of marriage. It had taken a bit of finagling on his part, and intrusive goads on David's, but, in the end, Susan conceded, no longer able to deny her love for the man or her lonely state. Talia and Marcus were gone, but Susan remained, and a heart can't stay locked forever. Or could it?

"I believe young Sheridan may be in need of rescuing."

Delenn smiled and opened her eyes. "No, my son likes to learn his lessons the hard way, and I'm sure Susan will give him one he'll never forget."

Chimir filled the space next to her, his gray smiling eyes filling Delenn with unexpected warmth. It had been nearly ten months since the third night of the sleep watching, neither having ventured to contact the other. Delenn, for her part, needed time after John's funeral—the thought of continuing the mating rituals with Chimir too much for her to cope with.

But here he sat, not in his usual Warrior Caste black uniform, but in a lightweight white and gray inner and outer robe, the material hanging perfectly to his fit body. Chimir was definitely healthier than the last time Delenn had seen him. Even his eyes were brighter, different from before. She didn't know quite what it was about him, but Chimir simply radiated . . . _something_. Delenn couldn't explain it, but he was different somehow. More than he was before. Just _more_.

"I wanted to thank you," Chimir said, those bright, different eyes holding her own, her body having the strangest reaction to his nearness. Delenn shook herself, forcing her mind to focus on his words. "Your recommendation made all the difference."

"I only spoke the truth when asked."

"Yes, but you were asked twice over the last twenty-five years. Why me?"

"You were the ideal choice," she answered, glancing back at the image of the universe on the windows. It was the Chi Draconis system. The binary star system Minbaris called home, a Sharlin class warship beautifully depicted gallanting protecting the planet by its solitary presence. But could such isolation ever truly protect, shield one from harm? Delenn turned back to Chimir.

"You were ready."

"Was I not ready to be Satai those other two times?" It was a genuine question, not born of ego or spiteful accusation. This Delenn knew with certainty.

"No, you were not." Delenn touched his hand, placing hers overtop of the one resting on his knee. "On three occasions members of the Grey Council came to me, seeking my advice as to who should take the place left vacant in honor of Neroon. And while I eschewed the responsibility of naming the leader of the Grey Council, they refused to select one without my input."

"So we've gone without one since you reestablished the Council. Almost thirty years, Delenn."

She nodded. "True, but I had no honest recommendation to make. The Grey Council needed a voice that could speak and listen in many tongues, not just one. Minbar can no longer pretend as if other races do not exist or that we are somehow superior to those we do acknowledge."

"And you believe I am the one, the leader our government needs?"

Chimir's other hand came to rest above Delenn's, the heat of him holding her hand causing her heart to race and flutter. Calming her nerves, Delenn answered.

"I always thought you would make an excellent Satai. But you wanted it for the wrong reasons—pleasing a short-sighted parent never a good motivator."

"What made you change your mind?"

The grip on her hand increased, followed by a softly stroking thumb. Delenn swallowed, wondering what it was they were talking about and how Chimir was having this affect on her. She gave herself a mental push, and continued.

"I've watched you over the years, especially since becoming leader of your caste. You've brought them out of the darkness and shown them the light and benefit of interspecies cooperation. It has made leading the Alliance infinitely better and more productive. Their change in attitude has impacted the entire planet and it was all do to your refined, open-minded leadership."

Chimir gave a bemused laugh. "I think, my dear Delenn, you give me too much credit. I simply, after too many years, began to follow your lead. I listened to your words, observed your selfless actions, and found wisdom in them—truth."

"Can a woman not give a man a compliment without having him turn it around on her?" she asked amusedly.

"Can a man not give a woman thanks without her turning it around on him?"

Delenn gave a shallow bow of her head, acknowledging his point.

Chimir stood and reached his hand down to Delenn. She took it, allowing him to assist her to her feet. "May I escort you to the reception, Madame President?" Chimir asked, with what Delenn couldn't help but view as a very un-Minbari like flirtatious tone.

She looked up at him and his eyes held the same flirtatious lilt as his voice. Delenn gave him a demure smile. "It would be my pleasure, Satai Chimir."

Chimir gave her his arm and Delenn accepted, linking her own through his, walking down the chapel aisle, refusing to acknowledge how they must appear.

"I've missed you," Chimir whispered in her ear when they reached the doors to the reception hall.

"I've missed you as well."

"I heard the Botanical Gardens have a new exhibit. Are you interested in taking a stroll with me through the new Zen garden?"

Two Rangers on guard opened the heavy glass doors for them, Delenn nodding her appreciation. They entered, arm in arm, the music and sight of Susan and her new husband regaling the crowd with a very lively dance, Susan's dress hiked up to her thigh, allowing plenty of enthusiastic movement.

Delenn laughed and turned to Chimir who, to her surprise, was staring down at her with a smile that didn't belong on his face, an improbable dimple appearing. She almost stumbled back, but his hands were there, holding her steady against him.

Delenn reached up and touched his face. She smoothed her slim, trembling fingers over his bright, different eyes and down to his oddly familiar smiling mouth. She brought her other hand up to his chest; Delenn's eyes entranced by Chimir's, and with great difficulty, Delenn parted her mouth to speak.

But the only words she managed to say were, "It's not possible."

**TO BE CONCLUDED**


	16. Chapter 16: A Warrior's Fate

**Chapter 16: A Warrior's Fate**

**Part 1**

"So, who's the egghead that keeps darting looks your way?" Garibaldi nodded over Delenn's shoulder but she didn't bother to turn; she knew to whom he was referring.

An instrumental piece—violin—was being played, forcing the guests to slow the cadence of their dancing from the up-tempo jazz swing to a languid sway. Delenn had one hand lightly gripping Garibaldi's palm, while the other delicately rested on his still strong shoulders. The dance was his idea, but she'd readily agreed. Anything to escape. And she had escaped, a desperate flee in fact. But only from the man, not from her disturbing thoughts. Had she only imagined the too familiar eyes and boyish Sheridan grin? On Chimir's face? Impossible. Right?

Delenn gave a mental shake of her head.

"That would be Satai Chimir. He's a—''

"Oh, so _that's_ him," Garibaldi interrupted.

Delenn looked up at him, and he down at her, his eyes shining with barely suppressed humor.

"I kinda figured it was when the two of you strolled— arm-in-arm— into the reception hall together. And if I wasn't certain then, the way the egghead has been stalking you with his eyes for the last half an hour, and you pretending not to notice, I would be positive by now."

Of course, he would've noticed. Even if Chimir wasn't being so obvious. With Garibaldi's military and security background, it would've been only a matter of minutes before his radar blared, warning him that something was amiss.

"Susan?"

"Yup."

"How do you think I convinced her to wear a dress to her own wedding?"

The quietly hypnotic violin solo transitioned into an even mellower flute duet. More people crowded onto the dance floor, the slow thrumming of the Human music not so different from Minbari musical taste.

"Compromise." Garibaldi said in answer to her question.

Delenn shook her head. "Blackmail. Susan said she would wear her Ranger One uniform to the wedding if I didn't allow her to invite Chimir . . . with boots," Delenn added in disgust. "Anatoly would've been appalled. Besides, it's just not done."

Garibaldi laughed; his tone rich and high. A second later, Delenn was also laughing.

"She would've, too, if for no other reason than to piss you off and to let her new husband know that she's too old and too stubborn to change—accept her or reverse course."

Garibaldi was right. Susan was stubborn, definitely set in her ways. But she was also warm-hearted beyond measure. Delenn knew Garibaldi knew this as well, which was why he performed a thorough background check on the Earth Ambassador once learning of the official engagement. Susan may look and act tough, but her heart was as fragile as a petal plucked from the rarest of flowers.

"You always had a way with words, Michael," Delenn said with a friendly smile. "So, it turned out to be a white dress in exchange for an invitation." A shrug followed. "It's her wedding and reception, Susan had a right to invite whomever she chooses. I had no claim over such a decision."

"Except that Susan and Chimir aren't exactly friends and she would've had no legitimate reason to invite the newest member of the Grey Council—not even political. You and I both know Susan doesn't give a damn about politics or diplomacy."

Delenn did know, Susan's 'they can go to hell' attitude the source of many meditative sessions.

Garibaldi glanced over her shoulder again. "He's still watching you."

"I know."

Garibaldi slowly moved them around the dance floor, his strides amazingly graceful for a man his age and size. When they finally stopped, they were on the other side of the room.

Garibaldi laughed and turned Delenn. And there was Chimir, gray knowing eyes— watching, waiting.

"He's relentless. I didn't know if that would work, but the guy has it bad, Delenn. You got yourself one hell of a stalker there." It was meant as a joke but Delenn knew otherwise.

"Chimir is chasing me," Delenn whispered to herself, dropping her eyes to avoid Chimir's.

"Earth to Delenn," Garibaldi said. "I only meant your Satai is clearly taken with you, just like Susan said he was. David agrees. But if he's making you uncomfortable, I'll go have a nice, long talk with him."

Under the fog that had clouded her mind once Delenn realized what Chimir was doing, she recognized the thinly veiled threat in Garibaldi's words and tone.

"That won't be necessary, Michael. I started this. I ran, now he's chasing me."

"Chasing you?"

Delenn nodded, and then sighed. "It's a Warrior Caste courting ritual."

Garibaldi laughed even louder this time, drawing curious glances from nearby dancers, including his wife, Lise, who was dancing with Zack Allan.

"You call stalking a woman around the outskirts of a dance floor a courting ritual? Is he a lion in heat or doesn't he know what century this is? Modern women may still like the strong, silent type, but that's taking the cliché a bit far."

"You don't understand, Michael. It's an ancient ritual that harkens back to the time of Valen but—" Delenn stopped; there was no point in explaining the Linn'dul to him. It wasn't as if she was an expert on Warrior Caste rituals, nor would Garibaldi find the concept of a submission ritual palatable to his overprotective male taste. But it wasn't the type of submission he would naturally think of, and Delenn would have to make her explanation quick before Garibaldi took matters into his own hands. In the end, it simply wasn't worth the stress headache.

The music stopped and people began to make their way back to their tables, waiters already bringing out the first of three courses of meals.

Lise came to retrieve her husband, her dark hair with silver highlights falling past her shoulders, resting against a simple but elegant emerald dress with a high waist and long bodice. Garibaldi extended his arm and she clasped her hand on the inside of his elbow, giving Delenn a warm smile as they too joined the file of wedding goers who'd worked up a hearty appetite on the dance floor. Garibaldi gave her one last scrutinizing glance over his shoulder, before being absorbed into the crowd.

He would want to know details later, and she would give some of them, if for no other reason than to assuage his concerns about her happiness and safety. Garibaldi was a good friend, not just John's but her friend as well—such enduring loyalty priceless in Minbari society.

Delenn walked in the opposite direction of everyone else. She passed the threshold of the reception hall, made her way down a well-lit corridor, and turned right, then left. Her office was on the other side of the double glass doors; she entered, not having to turn around to know who was following her.

**Part 2**

"Lights at fifty percent," Delenn said, turning to face her "stalker."

She'd considered raising the lights to full capacity, but fear prevented her from doing so. Did she really want to see Chimir's illuminated face? Was she ready to consider the inconceivable, the impossible?

"Have I told you today how beautiful you look in those robes? I've always thought you looked especially regal when you wore that particular shade of blue."

Was he flirting with her? And had he actually complimented her on her clothing?

"Are you feeling unwell, Chimir?" Delenn asked, taking a closer look at him. Perhaps, he wasn't as healed from those headaches as he appeared. Maybe she should increase the lighting, check for herself. "Lights at—''

"We need to talk, Delenn."

"—eighty percent," she finished. "About what?" It was a futile, worthless question meant to stall, avoid.

Gracefully, he edged closer to her. One-step forward, two steps back for Delenn, her desk ultimately putting a halt to her not-so-subtle retreat. Cautiously but persistently, Chimir placed one large hand, then the other on each side of Delenn's face. She gulped, seeing a flicker of manly awareness in his eyes.

Before she could protest, question, or move, Chimir slanted his mouth across hers, kissing Delenn with soft, sweet, but demanding lips. His right hand slid to the nape of her neck, pulling her even closer, his muscular chest rubbing against her ever-tightening nipples.

Delenn was torn between pushing him away and giving in to the slow ache starting to build in her loins. She hadn't felt this way in so long. Didn't think she would ever experience such carnal desire again. And had felt such overwhelming guilt each time Chimir forced her to come in contact with her feminine side. The one that hadn't existed since the last night she spent in John's arms.

How could Chimir make her feel like this? How could he ignite a long dead flame? A flame that once burned only for her beloved John, but was now being set anew. The heat torching her everywhere Chimir kissed and touched her.

Confused, Delenn struggled, hands sliding between their bodies, and shoving with force. Nothing happened. Chimir only repositioned his arms, wrapping them tighter around her waist, his mouth and tongue gliding to her throat, and sucking.

Just the right spot, with just the right amount of teeth and tongue. His breath caressed her warm neck, his words caressing her much lower. "Submit."

"I—I can't." The words were a struggle, and so was the ability to stand upright. Her knees felt like a tree being axed mercilessly by an experienced and determined lumberjack.

Chimir's lips roamed up her neck, to her cheek, and around to her ear. His tongue darted out, its point circling the shell, dipping inside just long enough to bring an unbidden moan from Delenn. She felt him smile against her ear, and she clenched her fist, angry for giving in that little bit.

"Submit," he said again, then twirled his tongue around her lobe, his mouth incredibly hot, wet, and torturously erotic.

She shook her head and pushed futilely at his chest again. Nothing. The man was as heavy and solid as a war cruiser. And unless Delenn was willing to hurt him to make him release her, she was trapped. In more ways than one.

Frustrated and aroused more than she was willing to admit—to him or herself— Delenn switched strategies.

"This isn't the proper execution of the Linn'dul."

"Much you know," he said with a mocking laugh. "You're Religious not Warrior Caste." He raised his head from her ear, eyes twinkling with more than mischief. But it was enough, Delenn able to breathe and think clearly without the thumping of her heart in her ears.

"There is no 'proper execution' in the way that you mean, Delenn." He smiled down at her, then brushed his lips across hers with delicate, sensual precision. "There are no lighting of candles, special prayers, or red fruit involved. Only the hunt." A languid tongue touched her slightly parted lips. "Only the chase."

Delenn was stunned, and it was all the distraction Chimir needed. His tongue deftly breached her lips, sliding inside with nary a defense from her. And, oh, where had he learned to tongue kiss like that? He drove deep, exploring with sensual tenderness with an undercurrent of hunger, ripping another submissive moan from Delenn. If she could curse him, or her weak body, Delenn would have—in both English and Adrondato. But she could do neither, her tongue engaged in a duel she was unwilling to lose. She would not submit.

Triumphantly, Chimir ended the kiss, his breaths coming in short gasps, her breathing mirroring his. "Submit, Delenn."

"No." Her voice was low but defiant. But Chimir's eyes were just as resolute, maybe more so.

"I want you _and_," he said with a pompous smile, "you want me. You're just too afraid to admit it, too afraid to lose yourself to love again."

"I'm not afraid of losing myself to love," she countered quickly, too quickly to convince herself or Chimir. "And the Linn'dul is a Warrior Caste ritual, and as you so clearly stated, I'm Religious Caste. And since it is the female who initiates all courting and mating rituals—regardless of the caste—'' Delenn said pointedly, "I do not have to abide by the ritual of another caste to which I am not bound."

She shoved against his incredibly solid chest, expecting him to release her. Chimir was a man of honor, upholding the norms and mores of their people. And she'd just given him a logical argument, he should have released her. But he hadn't, his massive arms still snaked around her waist, that pompous smile still plastered on his dangerously handsome face. If she wasn't mistaken, it may have even grown wider, more of his white teeth showing.

"Very good, Delenn. I've always admired your tactical mind. It's an asset to our people, and why the Alliance has flourished under your leadership."

Chimir's arrogant compliment unnerved Delenn and she knew she'd erred in some important way. Yet, she didn't know how.

"What you've said is true—''

"Great, then you can let me go."

"—except in this case," he said, ignoring her interruption.

Delenn gave Chimir a puzzled glare, and he ignored that as well.

"A female may initiate a courting or mating ritual from another caste, if it is her desire to accommodate the Minbari male in question. This practice—as you know—only arises when the couple are from differing castes. Such compromises are not uncommon. More importantly, it shows that the couple are already committed to bridging the differences that may divide them if they continue with the union."

Delenn did know this. In fact, she'd engaged in numerous foreign mating customs when she decided to join with John, and he'd done the same. It simply made sense, but it didn't here. So far, the few rituals she and Chimir had engaged have all been from her caste.

"There you are mistaken, Chimir. I did not initiate the Linn'dul with you."

He gave her that same annoying smile. The one that said she was a bird in an invisible cage.

"You began the ritual the morning after the third night of sleep watching."

Delenn thought back to that day, the conversation they'd had, and the revelation of Chimir's forgiveness. She didn't remember anything she could've done that would lead him to believe she wanted to engage in the Linn'dul. They kissed and she went home.

She had kissed him. Realization dawned like a shooting star. Delenn had done more than that. She'd challenged Chimir, taunted him with her humanity. Delenn had questioned whether he was truly capable of accepting a mate who wasn't entirely Minbari. And she had done more.

"The tongue kiss."

Chimir nodded. "You offered a challenge, dared me to accept, and I did."

He hugged her impossibly tight, every part of them touching except their faces. And female heat radiated from Delenn, his body exquisite in its temptation.

"I submitted to you." Chimir's voice was low and husky. "You wanted me to and I did. I accepted what you offered. Are you now saying the kiss meant nothing to you?"

It was a perfectly worded tactic, one that would either dishonor her, if she lied, or rip away another layer of protection for her heart. There weren't many layers left, if any at all.

"I meant it," Delenn conceded. "I needed to know if you accepted me as the woman I am today, not the woman-child I was when we first fell in love."

"That was important to you?" Chimir asked, pushing.

She nodded.

"Why? More pushing.

Delenn closed her eyes, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Finally, she opened them and said, "Your opinion matters to me, more than it should." She shook her head, forcing the words out. "You stir me in a way . . . that only John ever have. I didn't think it was possible for me to feel this way with anyone else."

"And it frightened you?"

"Yes. I vowed to always love him," Delenn said, feeling that old familiar twinge of guilt churning. She pushed it away, refusing to submit to that as well.

"Yet you care for me."

"Yes." Another whispered concession.

Chimir's lips grazed her cheek, his right hand coming up to twine in her hair. "Is there no room in your heart for me, Delenn? I think there is, but you have to be willing to submit."

"You want me to submit to you?" she asked, taking a sharp breath when Chimir's left hand started the most enticing massage across her back, hip, and backside.

Chimir shook his head. "You misunderstand, my love. I don't expect you to submit to me but to yourself."

She didn't understand and her gaze clearly said as much, prompting Chimir to mutter, "Religious Caste."

"Do you know the best kind of victory, Delenn?"

"One that doesn't involve humiliation and bloodshed," she answered.

Another "Religious Caste," broke his lips, Delenn too entranced by the feel of Chimir's hand on her to defend herself and her caste at the insult she detected in his tone and headshake.

"That is a good answer, and one I would expect from you. But you're overlooking the best and most rewarding answer. You see, Delenn, there are many types of victories, many ways to make a man or woman submit. But the best victory, the most sacred form of submission is the one done willingly."

Chimir's roving hand stopped, his eyes and tone turning serious. "The kiss wasn't the true challenge, Delenn, only the vehicle. After fourteen years of war, a Human, _Starkiller_, accepted and loved a Minbari who sat on the Grey Council and voted for war against his people. He married you knowing your role during the war, with the knowledge that many Humans would reject such a union—and by extension, him. He had and raised a child with you, secure in his humanity and your union that such a child would be surrounded by love, not narrow-minded prejudice."

His thumb stroked her cheek, coming away wet with tears she didn't know she'd shed. "You were unconsciously asking whether I was willing and capable of accepting that you will always love John Sheridan because he is the other half of your soul. You wanted to know if I could submit to the fact that you could grow to love me, be devoted to only me, and be happy with me, but never give that most sacred part of you. The part you've already given to another."

Delenn closed her eyes, unable to look into Chimir's. He had read her heart as if it was nothing more than a child's primer. And a part of her felt ashamed. Ashamed that she couldn't give Chimir what he so desperately wanted. It simply wasn't in her. And that was the true reason she hadn't tried to contact him after John's funeral. Why should Chimir settle for a woman who would never love him completely, the way he deserved to be loved? And what type of person would she be if she allowed him to make such a sacrifice?

More tears fell and those soft lips touched hers again.

"I've submitted to myself, accepted this fate. You, Delenn of Mir, are the calling of my heart. Will you submit with me? Accept our shared fate and admit that I am the calling of your heart until death takes your soul and rejoins it with Sheridan."

More tears and a firmer, more demanding kiss, Delenn's answer caught in her throat and on trembling lips. And the last layer of protection crumbled, slithering into the shadows like a demon running from the reborn heat of the rising sun.

"I—I submit, to myself, to you, to our future."

And he was kissing her again, burning a path of uncontrollable desire down her mouth, to her breasts and nipples, and through her throbbing, wet sex.

"Chimir," Delenn moaned, her head thrown back, accepting the passion she'd long since denied herself. Accepting him. Accepting them. Accepting her life without John Sheridan, knowing she would see him again where no shadows fall.

"I love you, my beloved."

Delenn paused, took Chimir's face in her hands, and uttered words she thought were beyond her. "I love you, Chimir."

His entire face lit up, unsuppressed joy encircling them both.

Chimir ran a teasing, testing hand over Delenn's shoulder and down her front, stopping over her breast, cupping, massaging. She gulped and her eyes fluttered closed. It had been too long. And then more kissing, fevered, impatient lunges towards the ever-encroaching cliff.

"Delenn, where in the hell are you?" Susan's raspy, annoyed voice came over the intercom in Delenn's office.

They both jumped, Chimir quickly moving away from her as if Susan had just walked in on them. Her intrusive voice interrupting . . .

"Clearly you know where I am, Susan," Delenn replied, a false calm smothering her overheated reaction to Chimir's mouth, hands.

"Okay, you got me there. I meant why in the hell are you in your office instead of at the reception? We're about to cut the cake and that damn son of yours keeps trying to put candles on it, saying he needs to know my exact age just in case that many candles sets off the sprinklers."

Chimir laughed and Delenn shushed him.

"And," Susan said, Delenn hearing the rustle of fabric, "this damn dress is about to undergo a major alteration. I swear if you don't get your ass back here and quick, the bottom half of this thing won't make it through what's left of the reception."

Delenn smiled at Chimir and knew it was time for them to leave the privacy of her office. There would be more time for exploration later. They had waited this long, there really was no rush, except, of course, for the fact that every inch of her body was tingling with sensual awareness. Had Chimir always known her body that well or did he have a photographic memory?

"I'll be right there, Susan, and don't destroy David or your dress while I'm en route."

"I make no promises on the Sheridan front." More rustling and then loud swearing. "Michael, why are you adding more candles to that blasted cake? I swear I'm going to—''

The connection abruptly ended.

"I think I better get back," Delenn said, reaching her hand to Chimir. He took it, lacing his fingers through hers.

"If we go in like this, everyone will know," Chimir said, gesturing to their intertwined hands.

Delenn shrugged. "I think the only people who are surprised by this is us."

"I think you're right."

Chimir gave her one last kiss before they left Delenn's office—hands and hearts bound as one, once lost but now found.

**THE END**

**Stay tuned for the Epilogue**


	17. Chapter 17: Epilogue

**Chapter 17: Epilogue**

**Part 1**

They were all stunned. Shocked. And Chimir was the cause. David seemed torn between wrapping his robust arms around Chimir in a debilitating hug or using his very long and strong fingers to throttle him for ruining what should have been a simple family dinner welcoming Susan home from her honeymoon.

Anatoly, for his part, was a very wise man indeed. He kept all thoughts to himself, continued to eat, while his wife roared, swore, and paced her displeasure from one end of the dining room to the other.

"What in the hell were you thinking, Chimir?" Spinning to face him, Susan answered herself. "You weren't thinking. You can't just drop a bomb like that and think we'll all smile, nod, and say, 'That's great, welcome to the family, say hello to John for us, now pass the flarn, please.' ''

And then there was Delenn. Chimir glanced in the direction Delenn had gone—presumably to her bedroom. The urge to run after her raged deep within. The protective warrior in Chimir compelled him to his feet when Delenn ran from the room. But a growled warning of, "Don't follow," from David halted his movement. The "or else," was implied in the angry and, yes, hurt look the young man leveled on him.

So he returned to the table, and there he sat with a nervously eating Anatoly, an entranced David, and a crazed Human female who vacillated in her curses—Russian, English, and Androndato running together to create a new language that was all Susan Ivanova.

Chimir had never felt so uncomfortable, but he didn't tell the truth to make himself feel relaxed, good, or even happy. He was already happy, had been in that ecstatic, blissful state the last month—ever since the day of Susan's wedding, when Delenn submitted.

Yes, she had submitted to herself. And, Valen bless him, Delenn had even admitted that she loved him.

_I love you._

Those beautiful, long awaited words reverberated in his head, his soul, his heart. And, for once, she'd kissed him. _Him._ And there was no guilt, no shame, no regret he could detect in her eyes, her voice, her body.

_I love you._

A month. A month of quiet talks and long walks. A month of brief, stolen lunches and extended, glorious dinners. A month of sweet hugs and kisses and burning, suppressed passion. A month of happiness. A month of lies.

_I love you._

Not a lie exactly, but not the truth either. Telling Delenn was never part of the pact between John and Chimir, but the more time he spent with Delenn—like a real courting couple—the more the desire for her to know the truth weighed on him. Until today, when he'd finally decided to lay down his burden.

If this fragile, new relationship with Delenn was going to be built on a foundation of marble, instead of sand, they all had to know. They all had to accept. There was no shame in what he'd done, the circumstances forced upon him. And there was no man who loved his family more than John Sheridan. They needed to know that as well.

If the truth ended in the dissolution of Chimir and Delenn's courting, then so be it. She needed to know, had a right to know, full disclosure necessary and so utterly dangerous.

But Chimir was never one to run from himself, his destiny, or inevitability. And it was inevitable, this metaphysical, spiritual truth that swung like a pendulum between them all. One swing to the right and Delenn looked into his eyes seeing Chimir. Two swings to the left and she glimpsed Sheridan. An inevitable, wholly improbable truth that Delenn couldn't or wouldn't entertain. But it was there between them, in her curiously probing eyes.

_I love you._

And he loved her, too. So much in fact, he would risk it all. Tempt fate and the universe itself by giving Delenn the ultimate gift—truth.

"You're driving us all crazy, Susan, with that pacing." Anatoly reached for his wife, arm outstretched, smile thin but loving. "Please sit. No good can come from such theatrics."

Anatoly held her stern, agitated gaze, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, those hostile eyes of hers softened. And Susan placed her hand in that of her husband's, allowed herself to be gently pulled to him, and she sat.

Amazing.

Apparently, David thought so as well, a muffled "Russian snake charmer," coming from his end of the mahogany table.

And there they all sat, stilled tongues and squared shoulders, cool, appraising eyes locked onto Chimir. Great. Wonderful. Now, if only Delenn would return, her green eyes would make it a consensus, bringing the ratio to four against one.

Chimir inwardly shrugged. Manageable odds, he thought.

More silence.

And then even more silence.

Chimir felt as if they were all waiting for something. For him? What else did they expect him to say? Except for revealing that Susan knew more than she'd led on, he'd told them everything. Susan could make her own confession, although, Chimir was pretty sure Delenn and David would put all the pieces together.

And just when that thought came to him, David stood and came to stand beside Chimir. The young man towered over him, his too-Delenn eyes absorbing Chimir's very essence, causing a part of Chimir's soul to twist in fatherly recognition.

And it took all of Chimir's self-control not to stand and meet the silent challenge, David's standing form a position of power to Chimir's seated one. But Chimir didn't move. In spite of his posture and menacing visage, David wasn't truly challenging Chimir. Many a battle had been lost and wars waged over perceived insult and pride.

Chimir refused to be a casualty. Nor would he allow David to fall prey to his own conflicting emotions. So he submitted, accepting the silent interrogation, their eyes locked—not in a battle of wills, but in battle for understanding, for truth, for enlightenment.

And at the end of that long, dark, and lonely tunnel, David slowly emerged, his right hand creeping to his side and finding Chimir's hand. David's hand was warm and sweaty, his long, thin fingers wrapping around Chimir's and squeezing.

"Thank you." The words came out in a whispered sob. But it was the unspoken ones that ripped through Chimir's body, tearing at his heart with the force of a late in season winter storm—fierce, wild, and unexpected.

_Thank you, Dad, for coming back, for loving me, for being selfless._

_And thank you, Chimir._

He heard them all and Chimir stood, pushing the chair back. And then he and David were facing each other, tears in their eyes, understanding conquered, truth achieved, enlightenment gained.

Then Chimir was being hugged. And all those years of loneliness, a man without a mate, a child, a family of his own, was slowly poured into him. An empty shell filled with an invisible but substantive glow of life, David's life, David's forgiveness, David's acceptance.

And when David Sheridan released him, Chimir knew the power of a son's love. And in that moment, he truly knew John Sheridan, the Human soul that fueled his Minbari one.

"Thank you," David said after releasing Chimir. David took a step back and looked over his right shoulder at Susan. "Thanks for helping Dad get his data crystal to me. That message meant the world to me, Aunt Susan. David faced her fully, placed his right hand over his heart and stretched his left arm out, hand up, palm out. Susan stood, mimicking the gesture. The silent "I love you," a gentle gossamer strand running between them.

David returned his attention to Chimir, his face serious but warm. "You'll find Mom on the balcony. It's her favorite place, one she goes to often when she wants to meditate or simply watch the sun rise."

Chimir hazard a look at Susan, who was, paying them absolutely no heed, her husband having captured both her attention and her willing lips. Chimir shook his head, the image of a hostile, belligerent Susan much easier to swallow than the weak kneed, in love newlywed before him.

"Get a room you two," David said laughing, and then held his stomach and made a retching noise. "I'll never be able to keep my dinner down if you keep doing that. Ew."

The joking David moved away from Chimir, his voice becoming more animated as Susan responded to his taunting.

"You were gone a month. That should've been more than enough time to dot every I and cross each T. Although," he said, retaking his seat at the head of the table, the one his father used to occupy, "sex isn't spelled with either of those letters, not even in Andronato."

"Well, if I have it correctly, David," Susan said, her voice tart, "you and Malan are only up to ritual three, which means you aren't _up_ to much of anything these days. No dotting of Is or crossing of Ts."

Susan's rich laugher and David's snort reached Chimir before he opened the balcony doors. "I bet you got that one man, or should I say one _hand_ show down pat . . ."

Chimir didn't hear the rest, the glass doors serving as the perfect sound nullifier.

The sun was just beginning to set, but the waning day was still relatively warm, the first glimpse of spring. The official day only a week away; and Chimir wondered if the new season would herald new blooms or old rain showers.

Chimir sighed, tucked his hands in the pockets of his black tunic, and sat down.

In front of him Delenn stood, her hands on the railing, back to Chimir. There was nothing more for him to say. He'd said it all in her office a month ago and in her dining room today. A male could only do so much. Chimir could only be there for Delenn, if that was what she wanted. Otherwise . . .

"Our people," Delenn began, her voice low, back still to Chimir, "believe in the cyclical nature of life. We believe the universe puts every soul where it needs to be, even when the soul in question doesn't understand. We believe that all life is sacred but no one soul is more important than any other. We are equals, equally chosen, equally destined, equally loved—the part no greater than the whole."

Her blue and white robe swayed delicately as she gracefully turned to meet Chimir's eyes; Delenn's shining with unshed tears. "I—I don't understand, Chimir."

She didn't but Chimir did. Delenn wouldn't. Selfless people never comprehended such things, too busy giving, never wanting or asking for anything in return. He and Sheridan, however, weren't so magnanimous, and neither was most of the universe.

Chimir went to her, opening his arms, Delenn—thank Valen—filled them without hesitation. Chimir sighed again, holding Delenn close, breathing in her sweet ginger scent, her long hair warming his pale face.

"Oh, Delenn, you have no idea how much you are loved."

She shook her head, a brief sob breaking free. "No one should be loved that much. The universe is not at my beck and call; such exceptions should never be made."

Chimir hugged her tighter and placed a soothing kiss to her cheek. The woman was a stubborn saint who truly didn't understand her vital place in the universe. He wondered if she'd even grasped the magnitude of how much her decisions—even the ones she regretted—had irrevocably changed life on Minbar, for the better. How much her strength and determination had impacted his life, and the lives of everyone she's ever come into contact—up to and including Valen himself.

Of course she didn't, for if she had, Delenn wouldn't be quietly sobbing in his arms, denying the truth. She was special. She was _the one_. And all the men in her life had known it—her father, Dukhat, Lennier, Sinclair, Neroon, Marcus, John, David, and him. They saw, they knew, they believed—in her.

Delenn, however, well, she was Delenn, and that truly said it all.

"Who are you?" the Inquisitor had asked her decades ago. "Delenn," had been her simple answer. And for that she was punished, maligned. But Sebastian—that wretched creature Chimir only saw in John's memories—was wrong. Her answer wasn't unacceptable, nor was it simply a name. It _was_ her, and she was it, and it and her transformed the universe and, yes, the universe was at her beck and call, even though she had never, would never summon it to do her bidding.

No, but the men that loved her had. They'd come to her rescue, given of themselves as she always gave of herself. She still did, a stable Minbar, a successfully run Alliance, and a well-loved David Sheridan proof of her tireless effort.

But she would never see. Chimir knew that with certainty. But she would accept, he knew that as well. Delenn was far too pragmatic not to.

Finally, Delenn straightened and wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her robe, looking somewhat embarrassed at her break in decorum. She'd get over that as well, Chimir thought. In time, Delenn would accept that there was no emotion she couldn't share freely with him. But he was a patient man.

"Do you think they've had dinner without us?" she asked, smiling up at Chimir with those sparkling green eyes of hers, the ones that invariably made his heart pump that much faster.

"Anatoly is probably on his third course but I'm sure they won't mind foregoing dessert until we've eaten."

Chimir turned toward the balcony doors, offering Delenn his arm. She happily took it, giving him a different kind of smile this time. He paused and stared down at her, a quizzical look forming on his face. Delenn laughed and his heart contracted at that, too. Was there anything this woman could do that wouldn't result in some part of his body standing up and paying attention? Probably not. Thank Valen.

"What is that look all about?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about dessert," Delenn answered with a coy smile. "And rituals," she added, pulling him to the closed doors.

"Rituals?"

He opened the doors for her and they both entered, Chimir sliding and locking the doors behind them. And the sound of laughter and talking was just as enthusiastically wonderful as they'd been earlier.

"Which ritual?" he asked, grabbing Delenn before she got too far away from him. There was no way he was going to allow her to get away with that little tease and leave him hanging for the breadth of an entire meal. She was up to something and he wanted to know what. And—Valen help him—she was giving him that same smile again, the one that was doing wonderful things to his body. The one that made him want to do wonderful things to _her body_.

"I hear," she said, placing her hands on his chest and leaning in, "Warrior Caste has an interesting variation on the Shan'Fal." Delenn kissed his chin, cheek, and then his quivering lips. "I think I would very much like to find out for myself. A research project, if you will."

Chimir returned the kiss, breathing in her sensuality, wishing suddenly they were alone in the house, but not caring who could walk in on them. The living room, where they were now, was empty and dark, but across the hall was the dining room where three laughing people could interrupt any minute, or not at all.

Chimir prayed for no interruptions. He prayed even harder that his time away on the Valen'tha wouldn't put too much of a hindrance on the mating rituals. Because, if he interpreted Delenn's words correctly, she'd just suggested the Shan'Fal, which was definitely a mating ritual.

Had she decided that they were past the courting phase of their relationship? Her words and, yes, the way she was kissing him, suggested as much. Did he dare to hope? He was and he did.

"When?" Chimir breathlessly asked. But he kissed Delenn again before she could answer, pulling her to the sofa and onto his lap.

She laughed when they landed ungracefully, her arms coming up around his neck to steady herself.

"I have to first formulate my hypothesis before I undertake the experiment."

"Experiment?" Chimir asked. The woman was maddeningly playful when she was happy. Delenn hadn't been truly happy in far too long and Chimir vowed to do all he could to keep her that way. But this teasing of hers, well, he knew a little something about torture techniques.

"Yes, a comparison," she said in answer to his question.

"Ah, a then and now type of experiment."

"Exactly," Delenn responded quickly; then she gasped and moaned.

"I see that's still one of your centers of pleasure." Chimir touched Delenn there again, making her squirm and moan into his mouth when he kissed her.

"That's not fair," she finally got out, glancing about the room to make sure they were still alone and that no one had heard her low cries of pleasure. "Every woman is sensitive there, Chimir, that proves nothing."

"What about here? And here? And, yes, Delenn, here?"

Chimir covered each would-be scream with his mouth, denying Delenn that release, but giving her another.

_Oh Valen_, she whispered, slumping weakly in his arms when he'd finished with her.

"We can conduct the experiment even better—_and longer_—when we're both naked and alone."

"Shan'Fal—Warrior Caste style?" Delenn asked, getting her breathing under control.

Chimir kissed her soft, wet lips. "Yes, but without the witnesses and" he kissed her deeply, passionately, placing her hand where he most wanted her to touch him. Delenn's eyes widened at his obvious state of arousal. "we can go as far as we like."

"So I've heard," Delenn said with a wink, and then jumped to her feet, avoiding Chimir's hands when he tried to prevent her forward progress.

"Now that we've had dessert," Delenn said, walking away from him, her coy smile back, "I think we should join the others and have dinner."

Chimir took five deep breaths, readjusted his pants, grateful for the extra room, and stood. Delenn was going to drive him crazy and he couldn't wait for her to take him as her mate.

"When, Delenn?"

"Soon," was her echoing reply.

**Part 2**

"Come to bed, beloved," Delenn said, moving over and patting the empty space.

Chimir gave her a dubious look and Delenn couldn't keep the laughter from flowing. To her amazement—and relief—she'd been doing a lot of that the last nine months. Her husband, on the other hand, didn't look as pleased as she felt.

"I don't think I can sleep on that bed, Delenn. I know I agreed, but I didn't realize it would be so . . . so . . . _flat_," he finished with a shake of the head. "Maybe we should have one of the house servants pull my bed out of storage tomorrow. We can sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight."

Delenn shook her head and Chimir's grimace deepened. They had only been married three months, two of which Chimir had spent on the Valen'tha, trying to convince the Grey Council of the wisdom of having the ruling body of Minbar on the planet instead of hovering in outer space, away from its people. It was an unprecedented suggestion, but one in which Chimir thought would put the Grey Council in a better position to stay in touch with its citizens.

Delenn, of course, agreed. The idea fully formed after many late night conversations between them, Chimir using her as a silent or shadow Satai. She didn't know exactly how she felt about that, but she often wondered if Valen and Lorien foresaw this peculiar arrangement. Again, unprecedented.

Delenn crawled out of bed, her green nightgown sliding silently over the silk sheets. She hadn't seen her husband in two months and she'd gone through a lot of trouble to order the bed from Earth. Delenn understood Chimir's skepticism; she was just as uncertain the first night she'd stayed in John's quarters. But there were certain things that was much easier to do on a flat bed.

Delenn intended to teach him and he would learn all the pleasure she was ready to show him, the Warrior Caste version of the Shan'Fal not as thorough as that of her own caste. While Delenn had indeed reveled in their lovemaking, she was nervous, out of practice, and more than a little worried.

The source of her concern was the same as it had been when she went through the Shan'Fal with John. In that case, she worried if he would think her body too Minbari for his taste, and thus unappealing. With Chimir, her concerns were the reverse. In both instances, she was shown to have fretted for nothing. Neither cared about such trivialities; her hybrid form pleasing to both.

But then there was also the knowledge that Chimir held the essence, the soul of her John. To be honest, Delenn had found that fact to be more than a little disturbing. But once she meditated on the odd turn her life had taken, she'd realized that it was John who had taught her it was okay for her to move on with her life.

He'd come to her almost two years ago in the guise of Chimir, still clinging to her and their former life together as much as she clung to those memories of old. But in that space of time, in the weeks that followed, he'd reminded her how good it felt to laugh, to enjoy one's friends and family, to treasure oneself and not take anything or anyone for granted.

John had given her a new outlook on life even when she fought against the revealed perspective. He'd brought closure and contentment to their son, renewing David's faith in his father's love, giving him the courage to start a life with Malan.

Delenn moved close to Chimir, taking his cold hands in her own, and kissing each palm. He was so nervous about this new arrangement and infinitely appealing.

And John had given Delenn Chimir. He'd sanctioned their union, freeing Delenn of any lingering guilt about her feelings for Chimir. And she loved him even more for that overwhelming gesture of love. How could she not, he was—after all—her soul mate.

But there was Chimir now and Delenn loved him as well—deeply and passionately.

"Come, my love."

Delenn turned, pulling Chimir with her, encouraging him to sit and then lay. He did both, appearing as rigid as any board. That would soon change though, Delenn thought, leaning over her husband.

She placed two pillows under his head, adding a bit of slant and lift. Chimir smiled in gratitude, his hands coming up to her face. "I've missed you," he said, his smile widening, eyes lowering to her mouth, and then lower.

"Not as much as I've missed you."

He ran his hands through her hair, Chimir's fingers sliding over scalp before finding where her bonecrest merged with the rest of her head. It tingled, the way it always did, the nerve endings especially sensitive if touched in the right spot with just the right amount of—oh, yes—pressure.

"I assume you're completely moved in."

Delenn nodded, her eyes closed, the pleasurable vibrations making speech difficult. Chimir knew this and he had no shame in showing Delenn—repeatedly—how well he did on their then and now experiment.

"Another science project, Delenn?" he asked, bringing their mouths together. He tasted delicious, his lips smothering her own, tongue gliding easily and possessively in her mouth. Chimir's hands slipped down her back, cupping her backside and pulling her fully atop him.

And Delenn's head began to spin, a not so slow burn coursing its way from the pit of her stomach to the demanding ache between her legs, which she opened, straddling Chimir.

At the feel of the different position and Delenn's lower body suddenly flush against his own arousal, Chimir's eyes flew open. Delenn smiled at his shocked expression. And she was even more pleased when his large hands found her hips and began a heavenly massage.

She leaned over and kissed him, her lips lingering on his neck then his chest, and finally his muscled stomach. And if she went farther—the way Delenn wanted to—it would be over all too soon. Pleasure center number twelve could wait. She would get to it, but she had other things on her mind.

"A demonstration," she said, "not another science project. I already know the result, even if you don't."

Chimir was breathing heavily now, the benefit of their current position and the horizontal bed now dawning on him. "It's a lot easier this way, more pleasure without so much concentration required while on a Minbari bed."

"I'm beginning to see that," Chimir said, watching as Delenn slid to his thighs, opening, and then removing his night robe. He sat up, one strong arm holding him upright, while the other managed to help Delenn off with her own sleep garment. Then they were both naked, Delenn's eyes feasting on the hard, muscular body under her own.

And to her growing astonishment—if not embarrassment—Delenn was captivated by the way her body responded to Chimir's. One touch—sometimes even a look—and she found herself taut with desire, like she was now; her need to join with him on the most physical, sensual level overpowering and immediate.

Delenn pushed Chimir onto his back and crawled up his body like a lion stalking its prey. But he was no defenseless deer to be hunted and cowered. No, Chimir was a warrior and would give as good as he got. Thank Valen.

And then she joined them, their bodies melding together as one, as their hearts already had. This was a demonstration, but one Chimir would actively participate, his role essential to an outstanding conclusion.

But that conclusion, those closing words of a Shakespearean play, or the last aria of an English opera, weren't quite ready to be uttered, bellowed, or screamed to the waiting heavens.

But when it was over, when the curtains were drawn and the theatre quiet, two lovers remained, the reverberation of their demonstrable act of love, act of passion, act of submission, shattering the last vestiges of sorrow with the power of their faith.

Unquestionable faith.

Unquenchable hope.

Undeniable love.

**Author's Note:**

Thank you very much for reading. What started out as a simple idea grew in complexity and depth. It was definitely not intended to last seventeen chapters, but once I started, I realized there was a deeper story to tell. The characters evolved, as did the story they wanted to have told. I took my cues from them, so blame John, Delenn, Chimir, David, and Susan if the story didn't follow the path you thought it should (LOL).

Anyway, I appreciate the support and those who went the extra mile by sharing your thoughts by writing a comment.

Whew, I think I can take a much-needed breath now.


End file.
